My bedroom becomes a cell,
their deeds make up my feelings,
in such a space, I should be well,
but in there; I start bleeding,
my inner child dies,
to make way, for all my bursts,
with such a side, I do cry,
this is me at my worst,
with mind-forged blades, I stab,
anything, I can see,
in dream like pain, I am so glad,
a fake killer, playing free,
an advertiser lies there,
because of interference,
so does annoying councillor,
so good at incoherence,
networkers writhe in pain,
for my disconnection,
so do those, my love refrains,
lacking their affection,
then these prospective horrors,
start to fade away,
as with anger; overborrowed,
mind dumps out the decay,
then reality, does kick in,
bash my head, on the door,
then my teeth start aching,
as I pace up and down the floor,
asking too old a question,
about mankind’s; self-made doom,
why do they make the tension,
to make me bleed in my room?
-
Author:
AuburnScribbler (
Offline) - Published: September 1st, 2023 08:38
- Comment from author about the poem: Intrusive thoughts, we all have them, and of course, they are only nuggets of synaptic dark potentials, that in time, can be locked away, if a person is strong enough to do so, by using a deep sense of morality, displaying an understanding of what is real and unreal, and hurt and not hurt. Though to be angry, and to have such sinister ideas, shows that all inevitable fact: we are human, and we are not perfect, thus, we are not wholly good. Also, when it comes to creativity, especially those who choose to write, all aspects of life are to be explored, rather than just the ones that create joy. To put it simply, not every song's a love song. This is a poem about me having a particularly bad day, and the banner picture resembles the skin, of which, can either be actually hurt, or hurt figuratively. I hope that you "enjoy" the poem, I hope your intrusive thoughts aren't a regular occurrence, and as always, please do stay safe everyone.
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 10
Offline)
Comments3
I read this and as I read I was reminded of my youth, the child of alcoholics who sometimes physically beat but more often emotionally beat down. I was reminded of the human frailty, the fact that we're all fallible. Due to the realizations, we can move forward either through suppression (not recommended) or through recognition. Very well written and so thought provoking!
Thanks for the read Pop64, and I'm sorry to hear about the wars you were forced to go through in your past.
There were similar themes in my family when I was younger, but of course, things have changed for the better, of which, what it sounds like with you, the same improvements have happened as well.
Thank you for your candour, and though, I'm a tad apologetic in raising unhappy memories, I'm glad that I've reminded you, how far you have come to paint a smile on your face.
I hope that all is well.
this poem just shattered my soul...n i loved it
Thanks for the read MrsD, and I'm glad that you loved this poem, though, I will get the proverbial sewing machine out, to re-stitch up your shattered soul bless you.
I hope that all is well.
Intrusive thoughts come out of nowhere, when you least expect. I find that the eyes of age have helped me gain perspective, and a touch of wisdom in understanding the difficult family relationships that plagued my younger self. I know those thoughts will pop up from time to time, it's inevitible. But when they do, I know who I am now, and they can't make me feel bad any more, I accept that they are part of me and I can go on. This is such a powerful theme dear friend, one that strikes at the heart of our vulnerabilities, such a brave and thoughtful write.
Thanks for the read Bella, and for your as always intelligent and friendly commentary.
I suppose, as you've mentioned, that time is both a healer, and a realising agent, and though, I have yet to reach such an age of wisdom, I think that the sadness does remain, that our species, in it's base core operation, has a very frustrating and grizzly side, that makes massacres all over the world. But, in talking about the individual, you and me, the phases in which we've worn in life and have yet to wear, depends on how judicious we are, or how stubborn we are in our choices, but in the hope that the basest common decencies and senses can be adhered to.
I'm glad that this poem has reminded you on what your true definition is as your own person, and, as always, thank you for your kind words.
I hope that all is well.
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