Art of the poet

Emotions play me day by day,
for one is deceived by my outer & locked out by my inner.
An art that cannot be spoken,
an art that lives in me.

Words are used to describe not necessary felt.
Maybe it's the downcast flames burning in me,
or maybe,it's just more that words can explain.
Something lonely that hit the corners of my heart.

Forgive my despair for it brings uncertainty.
The roots of my words soaked with negativity,but,
forgive them,for they are just meant to be.
Unexpressed begging for forgiveness.

My dying heart & soul longing to proclaim the answers.
Uneven are the feelings I jot down,
insecurity that binds together,
for the art of my own sense of belonging is searching.