Carpe Diem

Veronica Achlys writes

They tell me to be vivacious,

To laugh until I can no more,

To speak of everything I love,

To dance in the moonlight,

To sing the symphonies within me,

To fly beyond the sky,


To be full of life and joy and love and laughter.


But what life will I live if I'm dead?

All I am is a ghost from another time,

Somehow still alive,

A spirit as black as coal,

A memory of another life,

That doesn't quite let me be.


They say that there's a light,

I don't see it of course,

So I light a fire of my own,

The darkness falls

And the fire turns out to be wildfire,

Flames that destroy everything.


What laugh will I chortle if I'm haunted by woes?

What am I even mourning?

I know not,

This grief is of another life, one that I don't remember living,

So even in this one I shall rot,

To this pain, there's no meaning.


There's an abyss all around me,

I am armed with knives and crossbows,

But what use will they be

Against impenetrable darkness?

How can one expect me to laugh

When all I've ever known is to burn?


What will I speak of if I have no voice?

There's alot I love,

Poems scratched on the walls of my throat,

But they never seem to escape that prison,

Alot of words,

Too insane to be said.


What curse is this?

To not be able to speak,

It must be a crime,

To hide so much with so much ease,

I'm only human,

Then why am I punished like demons.


What dance will I prance if I can't even see  moonlight?

I don't see the stars shine,

Or the sun set,

I don't feel the rain making my hair wet,

Or the breeze that rushes past,

All I see is darkness last and last.


I told you,

I'm too far gone,

I'm just a bundle of thorns,

Dead roses,

That never bloomed,

Just sharp edges that form a deadly fortress.


What song will I sing if there's no music within me?

Of course I can sing my own elegies,

But they'll see my pain,

That I carry with shame,

The pain I cannot quite place,

For I have no recollection of the past.


They'll know I'm the half mad poet,

The deceptive storyteller,

Words that destroy,

Lightning at my fingertips,

Eyes sharp as daggers,

Heart dead as a corpse.


What flight will I take if my wings are broken  and blue?

Where will I fly to if I'm locked up in a cage,

I only know to fight against this captivity,

To scream against these chains in rage,

Knives drawn,

Arrows fired.


I build myself a kingdom out of this prison,

The walls are high enough,

No one gets in,

I write my time away,

I will never live,

I will never know anything other than my prison house of pain.


  • Author: Veronica Achlys (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: January 23rd, 2024 04:19
  • Category: Sad
  • Views: 7
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