I.
A Sudden urge to be better,
chokes me into confusion as
I forget who I was when
The answer to who I wanted
To be was, to my knowledge
II.
No matter what, I swore
To myself not to end it,
nor to lose my end.
Like a strand of hair or
the end of a thread that got burned off.
III.
It doesn’t make sense,
but to let go is to learn
that it doesn’t need to
make sense.
IV.
I became foreign to myself.
snow blows into my face
and forms into water,
as sun hits my face.
All this freedom,
stuck in a body.
V.
I’m starting to notice things I never saw before.
Well. Maybe I saw them.
I wasn’t paying attention.
-
Author:
The Skeptic (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: August 28th, 2026 02:20
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 10
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange, Kathalog
Offline)
Comments5
A poetic realization and in it an enlightenment. Sometimes we don't notice things for a reason. Nicely written my friend
Thank you, my friend. Your comments are always most welcome!
My pleasure
My friend, this hit me deeply. Becoming disconnected from yourself while still choosing to continue is such a painful and courageous experience. The gradual return of awareness brings quiet hope without pretending everything is resolved. Beautiful, vulnerable work. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️
There’s a compelling tension between wanting to become better and realizing you can’t do that without becoming unfamiliar to yourself. The final “I wasn’t paying attention” is the strongest turn—it suggests transformation isn’t always invention, but finally noticing the person and world that were there all along.
Thank you for your comment, friend!
I like to think that we can be a better version of our selfes than from yesterday because we choose to be better and we choose to still walk on this earth and notice things. So easy to say that I can relate to this pice more than I would like to admit.
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.