I reach
Into the engulfing darkness
And pull back
A hand
Covered in paint
Red, green,
Crippling self-esteem
A home that is
More broken that it seems
I reach
Into the chaos
And pull back
Sticky fingers
Glass shards, whiskey stained
Unimaginable pain
Thoughts I cannot escape
What once was soft
Loving, floaty and gentle
Is now raging, hateful
Indifferent and ungrateful
I ask for help
Hold the hands that once
Cradled my face
And they pulse with premature age
They drip with chains
And the art, it mocks
The critics flock
I hold onto my brush
And try to break creative block
Only to find, again
I have failed
Finish it
It is time
This is the work that will
Turn around
My bitter life
End the strife
Restore my wife
Heal my daughter
Despite all that I taught her
I am
Trembling fingers on a canvas
Paint-stained and ravenous
Ready to take my bow onstage
Isn’t it strange?
They say
Madness runs
In my family
Madness is but
A layer
Do I take hold of the fear
Behead it?
End it?
Put a stop to its underserved reign?
Am I insane?
Do I run
or let the madness
Run?
12:32am - 10/12/25
-
Author:
Chloe S (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: December 10th, 2025 07:39
- Comment from author about the poem: completely inspired by Layers of Fear. love that game, have analysed it inside and out
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 6
Offline)
Comments2
A dark write of a life changed from softness to hardness, love to anger, acceptance to rejection. A sour feel that comes through so well. Nicely written
thank you!
You are most welcome
This is fantastic! it perfectly expresses the realization that it's our job to take care of us...well done!
thank you!
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