content warning: intense and emotional, talking about feeling overwhelmed<\/p>\n
but fuck, a poet’s what i am – content warning: intense and emotional, talking about feeling overwhelmed but fuck, a poet’s what i am – i’ve got the rhythm, the way of the words, the metaphor and the twist, the uneven rhyme and i move and manipulate it ’til it looks and sounds…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4005,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-121782","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-marathon-poem"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/121782","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4005"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=121782"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/121782\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":121792,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/121782\/revisions\/121792"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=121782"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=121782"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=121782"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\ni’ve got the rhythm, the way
\nof the words, the metaphor and
\nthe twist, the uneven rhyme
\nand i move and manipulate it
\n’til it looks and sounds perfect.
\nand somehow on the other side
\nit feels a lot like i can’t do this –
\ncan i do this?
\ndrowning and flying can feel identical
\nand i am doing both, opening my wings
\nand becoming myself while i
\ncollapse<\/em>
\nthere’s all too much – it’s all too much
\ni am screaming into the abyss
\nand the cruelest irony is that the abyss
\ndoes not scream back.
\nit swallows my voice and my echo and it burns it up,
\nfuel for its fire,
\ni am collapsing and so is my foundation.
\nwhen i’m gone what will be left?
\nwill my words say anything of me?
\nwill there be anything worthwhile in the words –
\nthese words, my<\/strong> words,
\nthe words that keep me sane, keep me grounded,
\nthat are the way i express myself to the world.
\nor will i fade into anonymity and nothing
\nand leave nothing behind?
\nwhen all is said and done
\nyou gotta wonder
\nwhich is better.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"