creativity

there is a sorrow that i do not want to speak
it is something that i cannot give away

there is time that keeps on going and if i stay
i will just be left out and buried in this delay

there is a grief that cannot really be spoken
there is this pain that goes on and one

there are empty parks and empty cafes
there are closed doors and locked rooms

there is this self sometimes that does not open
there are fingers that remain closed upon themselves

there is a song that i can only sing inside myself
there is this poem that keeps on evading what is it that could have been said

all these are mine alone and all these keep me moving on
remembering, loving in silence, keeping the tears frozen, creating what could have been unreal.