Emily Rae Robles

the paradoxymoron

Inside My Mind

a traffic jam of ideas, pushing for priority down the ill-paved streets of fantasy;
a whirlwind of colors, experimenting with shades of thought;
a secluded corner of quietness, where focus drifts in times of overwhelming stress;
a deep well of unexplored semi-sanity, rejected by all but the subconscious;
a sea of misplaced contexts, waiting for a home;
an expanding universe of understanding, gasping for breaths of wisdom;
a place that is mine and mine alone,
where every fireside armchair is tailored to the curves of my restless soul,
where the smell of fresh rainfall perfumes the air,
where hand-drawn family portraits adorn where walls are not,
where every favorite song creates its own universe more real than anything on earth.
this is no secret hideaway or private fortress.
this is me myself, in my broken quest for curiosity.


February 5, 2011 - Posted by | poetry, writings | , , ,

1 Comment »

  1. The poem was written about me… 🙂

    Comment by Gwen | February 5, 2011 | Reply

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