From the ‘Echoes of my Heart’

In the kitchen of my heart, so deep,

lies so many secrets I gatekeep. 

And a little corner, set apart, 

A space for art, a molding of my heart.

This corner of art, forlorn and bare, 

Filled with words unspoken there, 

Whispers of thoughts, both near and far, 

From people and moments, leaving a scar.

Unnoticed thoughts, they seemed to hide, 

But words resisted, deep inside, 

I fought them back, with silent plea, 

Yet they lingered on, haunting me.

"Don't overthink," I say with might, 

To the judging crowd, in fading light, 

But those sharp words, like swords they gleam, 

Replay in my mind, a haunting dream.

A hundred times, they echo and pound, 

When solitude's silence has me bound, 

This corner of art, the heaviest part, 

Recalling things that tear me apart.

I claim no grudges, I hold no hate, 

But hidden embers, still burn and grate, 

A raw, unsorted space within, 

Where heavier emotions begin.

It pokes and prods, right to the core, 

Making me care, and wanting more, 

For in this corner, forlorn and deep, 

My truest feelings, I sadly keep.