You were never born to die in mint condition.
You were born to explore and ravage every nook and cranny
Of both the world and yourself.
You were born to break your bones, your heart and yourself
In desperate attempts to find your reason for being.
You were born to bruise and scar yourself,
Walk till your knees gave way
On your journey to find the golden city of El Dorado and the silver lining of your life;
Swim until your skin wrinkled and your eyes burnt
On your quest to find the lost city of Atlantis
And the belief you lost in love and dreams and pixie dust;
Scratch and tear yourself while you dug a hole
To both the centre of the world and your heart;
Sail and swim the seven seas
To find Stevenson's treasure island and Verne's mysterious island
And hope to lose the fear of drowning you held inside.
You were born to travel the world time and time again
Till you believed you could travel it in eighty days with a blindfold on;
You were born to lose Milton's paradise
And on your journey through Inferno and Purgatory
Hope to regain it under Dante's starless skies
As you hoped to regain the love you lost under Gogh's starry ones.
You were born to crack skulls and chip nails
And burn yourself with fire and light as you travelled alongside angels and demons
And learned to coexist with both.
You were born to tread Whitman's leaves of grass and race through paper towns
As you hoped again to find all that may yet be real in this world.
You were born to find the chinks in your stardust armour
As you flew past nebulae and quasars with Perry's little prince,
On your odyssey through the history of time
To uncover all the timeless truths no one bothers to look for anymore.
You were born to strain your vocal chords
As you learned to sing with the voices of the mountains,
And splash yourself with colours
As you painted pictures in the sky with all the colours of the wind,
Pictures for Death to marvel at as he went about his daily routine of collecting souls
And you went about yours to collect memories.
You were born to write till you understood why a raven was like a writing desk
And read till your mind was blown to bits
As you sat through the burning Alexandrian library
And hoped for more poems that seemed to detonate your soul;
You were never born to work a nine to five,
The compass in your head and the map in your heart
Would never allow your restless soul to settle down and wear yourself away
Behind an empty box with a screen.
You were born to turn to dust only after you had conquered the world,
And only after you found out that you can never quite conquer the soul.
My love, you were never born to die in mint condition.
_You Were Never Born to Die in Mint Condition
#ellowrites #ellopoetry #ellowriting