Day 8.5 … The Horde. Poetry: All of you are full of shit…
By: Isha A Poet
Tags: Poetry, Screenplay, Screenwriting, Poetry Writing, Poetry On Medium

Poetry: All of you are full of shit. Full of the biggest bullshit I’ve seen in history. I was thinking it was a conspiracy. That you all had turned your backs on me. Literally but no I was right. The mystery wasn’t whether or not we could work. But when the inevitable was going to happen.

Passion: Such a hypocrite. You say that you’re the one that’s holding a grudge against all of us.

Love: Passion, it happens sometimes. We go through bad patches. We need to find greener pastures. We should’ve learnt how to deal with one another. We need to search deep within our…

Anger: Oh shut up Love- please. Always with the mushy crap. I know you love her to the moon and back. But at the end of the day Love & Passion- She; Poetry. Decided there was no need to discuss with us & concluded that we are all her common enemy.

Poetry: You all are. Don’t distort my meaning. But you misled me. Blindfolded me. Took me astray lead me down a path. That was corrupt and vicious. You all misinterpreted my words. Everything even the tiniest comma had a new meaning. And then I can’t explain how it’s made me feel! I’m silenced like the lambs. That not one of you can be honest with me. Like I’m part off hierarchy and league of my own. The only one pulling their weight in the pact that we all had formed.

Passion: I call bullshit!

Love: Here we go! Don’t say that guys come on. Let’s not …

Anger: I second that.

Love: For the love of God.

Passion: Motion carried. You dear Poetry. You seem to have forgotten to take the blinkers off. We were the ones that feed you most of your work. All of your work. We feed you all the pain. The happiness. Love. Passion. Anger. And you want to take credit for all of our achievements. You see that, it’s the exit. Please leave us be.

Poetry: No I won’t leave. I said you didn’t listen to my words!

Anger: Again their not your words. They’re mine. My feelings are a part of me. Like basic anatomy. You can’t place a claim on my lungs. When they’re moulded into the fram of my being. My breathe is mine and mine alone. The beat of my heart plays loudly all the way through me. And like me. Anger burns right at the core the foundation of it all. Singeing my finger tips. Leaving fire laced with a little drop of hate! Never once did you ask me. How your empty donations to the charity of EmotionsRus But Not For You plc. Made us the majority shareholders feel. You assume that you are the only one that has felt betrayed. Left to be beating and bruised while you were hiding amongst the crowds. Where were you? Passion & Poetry! When Love was stuck between a rock and a very fucking hard place. Being misused and beaten then replaced. When she was concealing purple and blue kissed that were. Left by those who she thought had an interest an affection for her of some sort. Like when she used to write and her heart would quiver and tremble. Making the room vibrate like someone had turned on the bass and treble but muted all her sounds. Her vocals, her screams.

Love: You’re one to talk Anger. Weren’t you the one that said I would always have my temper always have a way out. That without doubt I would always have my rage to defend & protect. Was it too much to ask for? Where were you Anger? All of you? What happened to “all together and never alone”. That when one falls we all tumble & crumble together like dominoes. That none of us would ever be left in the dark. But I was, I would reminisce over how we would interlock adapting and changing like a Transformer. I was afraid most of the time even when I wore our layers of armour. I could fell my pulse shudder that we meaning me. Love would have to turn into something I wasn’t. Into you Anger or Passion or Poetry. All of you would be lost without me. You feel Anger because Love never stuck around. Never saw past all of the hatred rgar was smeared all over your soul. And you Passion what do you think made your flame burn so bright. So illuminating that it was seen in different galaxies. Poetry I filled your pages with ink kisses that saturated the envelopes with the scent of my lips. That sweet essence of my soul the very core of me. I let you all take pieces of me, mix them up and try to conjure a new me. That was somehow meant to be my replacement. Ha oh I see well where is this bitch then?! Who thinks she can move mountains or rewrite history. Conquer the enemy and destroy what foundations of life support I have created. Not just for you Passion Anger and Poetry, but for the millions of you that are reading this. That in this life nothing can come close or take place of what I can give. What can be given but never kept for too long. Love.

Sincerely Yours

Isha A Poet xx