I was told to hold on.
Hold on in the burning house
Hold on to the glass wire
Hold on to diabolic air
Hold on?
My hands, legs, and heart are half burnt.
Scars on my hand are no longer hidden.
The air of bitterness is flowing through my veins.
Holding on,
it's just delaying the heart patient to go hospital.
What's the point when you could have taken him directly to hospital,
he would have suffered less.
But no that was not what you wanted, you wanted him to suffer by giving sweet fake promises.
What's the point of waiting for the next train,
when this could have taken me to where I belong.
What's the point of waiting,
Tea will grow colder, waiting for the right time.
The leaves will fall with their hopes, waiting for the right time.
Hold on?
Why do I need to hold on this glass rope when I can leave it?
Why do I need to burn myself more, when I can stay with peace?
Why do I need to suffocate, when I can breathe freely?
Why do I need to hold on?
Why do you pretend like you care the most, when your actions are just pushing me into darkness!
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Author:
Antra Sharma (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: August 16th, 2026 03:02
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 11
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange, Fränz Müller
- In collections: The girl behind the strength.
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Comments4
Beautifully written!
Thank you
A poem about procrastination, pretending all for putting on a face. Well done Antra
Thank youuuuuu
Always most welcome Antra
Antra, this really hit me. There’s so much exhaustion here from being told to endure what is actively hurting you. The piece has real force because it keeps pushing toward the question of whether survival sometimes means letting go. Powerful work, my friend. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
Forced to endure even when it was not needed, thank you for your time and kind words!
What a powerful poem!
Thank you
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