A poem...

[Anzel]

I'm not sure what it's gonna be about, but I need to write...the anxiety doesn't go away otherwise...

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The flower
of my soul;
her song softspoken
and heart a-leaken,
and I feel so faint...

The swan,
Her feathers dusted in golden sun
Reflecting the light with a pale, sickly ochre
Of yellowed gold sludge

The pain
She is there
Sitting in my chest forever and ever
Her lair unbroken
I feel as one

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Makes no more sense to me than to you...lol...

[Jayavyan]

Hehe, I think I prefer poetry like this, which admits up front that sometimes the finished product knows more about its meaning than you do.   

Nicely done!

[Anzel]

Hehe, it's true with some of the best poetry...but I bet you quite a bit that no one would admit to it. You can touch up on a poem, but still...some things are lost when you have to make the stresses of words fit together, and sense becomes gibberish x3;;

[Nutty]

Great stuff!