My glasses were stained with worthless tears
What have I been working for all these years?
You ask everyone to find a cure for me as if I'm some volatile monster
Stop and think maybe you're the impostor or theres no cure you just need to foster
My wrists are slit open, red all around, the wounds unable to heal as the clock ticks
My scars don't define me but is it so wrong if they do? Maybe I am nothing more than my finger pricks and mind tricks
A kiss is better than a kiss goodbye, sometimes less is more than way too much
I'm alone in this world as I hold out to a hand or the ocean in hope to clutch a touch
I hear the dishes clattering and so are my teeth as I wait for the door to be broken down
A full circle is what I call it, I hurt myself as soon as you leave after hurting me, my pearly dress now a blood soaked gown
"Your fate is already decided" but is everything else too? Sat down and asked myself what are you working for? Silence is all that was returned
I watch as my dreams, my hope, my old self and everything for what I've yearned in the blinding fire burned
My eyes perfectly define the word 'red' I've worked hard for them too. Spent days and nights crying In the tightest of spaces both physical and mental
You'll never be able to be sentimental towards me it's unfixable but try to be gentle even if it's accidental
- Author: aaizafahad30 ( Offline)
- Published: October 17th, 2024 00:01
- Comment from author about the poem: i have poured out my emotions into this video. It portrays the mental state of a person who is struggling and doesn't have anyone to talk to or share their sorrows with and they're trying to let it out in other ways which are usually unhealthy. They beg hoping there is someone who'll listen to them but the world is too cruel.
- Category: Sad
- Views: 10
- Users favorite of this poem: Soman Ragavan
Comments2
My comments on the poem “The blood well of emotions” by Aaisa Fahad30
This poem is sombre and full of sadness. It depicts a very bad experience and cries out for help. Even the tears are called “worthless.” There are scenes of self-harm. The final part pleads for pity for the mental torture to stop. Hope things work out for you, friend poetess… Best wishes. Soman Ragavan. 17 October, 2024.
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Bravo
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