I am a monster born of woe,
From shadows where the lost winds blow.
My cradle was the mournful night,
My lullabies, the fading light.
My skin is woven of silent cries,
My eyes reflect the stormy skies.
Each step I take, the ground will quake,
Beneath the weight of hearts that break.
I feast on tears, a bitter stream,
And wander through a restless dream.
Where laughter fades, my echoes dwell,
In hollow caves where sorrows swell.
But in the depths of what I claim,
I hold no joy, I seek no fame.
For every wound I’ve ever sown,
Has bound me to my aching throne.
Yet still I long, though I can’t show,
To shed the chains of grief I know.
For monsters born of woe can yearn,
To feel the warmth they can’t return.
-
Author:
Rhonda Elliott (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: November 27th, 2024 12:09
- Comment from author about the poem: This poem is about how for years having love and kindness withheld as a punishment can ultimately shape the person you are now. It tells how in the end you still want those things but feel unworthy, you resent the very thought of what once was yearned for so deeply.
- Category: Sad
- Views: 25
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett
Offline)
Comments3
I like the honesty in the poem, sometimes it is very hard to write what you really feel.
Thank you
You are very welcome
A poem with power and deep emotion. It evokes a sense of outrage as well as compassion. It is very well written with good meter inverse that flows well. Very nicely done.
Thank you
Lovely poem. I read the lines "For every wound I’ve ever sown,
Has bound me to my aching throne." - over and over. Somehow those were saying something deep to me. Excellent work!
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