I step into the real world, A fool on a journey, Chasing a ghost named hope, Scared of what comes next.
Yet I walk forward, Each footfall heavy, Pressing into the pavement, Wishing the cracks would not grow.
At first, the flowers greet me, Soft petals brushing my fingertips, Colors bright, intoxicating, Hope dancing in the wind.
But beauty is fragile, And footsteps unforgiving. The flowers begin to bend, Begin to break.
Someone—something—has crushed the flowers, Torn the road apart, Left me wandering, Hands empty, heart heavy.
The pavement is no longer whole, Fractured under careless hands, Cracked beneath the weight of cruelty, Splitting open like a wound.
I kneel to gather the pieces, Try to water what is dead, Try to hold onto a dream Already slipping through my fingers.
But maybe the pavement was always broken, Maybe the flowers were never mine to keep. Maybe hope was just a mirage, And I was always meant to walk alone.
The road does not care if I stay, The flowers do not mourn as they die. I stand in the silence, Realizing—there was never anything here at all.
-
Author:
Yumi Gab (
Offline) - Published: May 30th, 2025 11:38
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 15
- Users favorite of this poem: Poetic Licence, Soman Ragavan
Offline)
Comments4
This poem is quite nihilistic in nature and offers a stark and dark view of things. A most lovely write.
On the dark but a lovely write and very relatable to many, we step into the world with hope and optimism, then when we look closer it is nothing like it first appeared, enjoyed the read
On poetry sites we often come across sad stories, stories of silent human suffering… Poets resort to writing to recount their stories. Here we see cracked pavements, withering flowers --- signs of degrading life, even obstacles in one’s way. The first view of the flowers was a bright one, but it soon showed decay, damages.
It was cruelty that cracked the pavement. Unfeeling humanity lashes at all around it. The poet tries to mend that which is broken, save the flowers that are dying.
The poem continues in a sombre tone. Perhaps the flowers were meant for someone else. Even hope turned out to be hopeless… Solitude resumes. The road is uncaring, just as life around. “The flowers do not mourn as they die” : they know that their life is short. The spread out in the hope of finding renewal, of attracting someone.
The concluding lines resume the despair.
“Full many a gem of purest ray serene
The dark, unfathom’d caves of ocean bear;
Full many a flower is born to blush unseen
And waste its sweetness in the desert air.”
Thomas Gray (1716-1771) : “Elegy written in a country churchyard.”
The fate of the flower sometimes resembles that of a human being, who will die without achieving happiness in this life.
---------------
Very beautiful poem
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.