"I should go to bed" I say,
"And I don't just mean because I'm tired, sadly."
An ironic chuckle escapes me
For can I not use that word after most of my sentences
that I write these days?
Like a permanent adverb affixed to my life,
A leech, drawing things far more vital than blood,
Perpetuating its effects throughout my existence,
my very thought of its presence furthering its sick purpose.
Stealing away hard earned happiness,
Replacing it with a dull, monochrome,
Life of cynicism.
The colours draining before my very eyes,
Even the knowledge of what's happening working against me,
Bringing an acceptance of the grey-scale vision and lack of vibrancy
in an existence that regardless is devoid of reasons to maintain positivity.
An overwhelming flood of negativity,
The pessimism washing over in a tide of thoughts actively crushing
any optimism wherever it may spring up,
Controlled by a lunar personification of hardships.
An ocean of endless reasons not to keep fighting,
Any desperate attempt to breathe
Swiftly being dragged beneath the surface,
Before a single cry for help can be made...
- Author: Zarhgon ( Offline)
- Published: March 22nd, 2017 02:21
- Comment from author about the poem: A little different to my other poems (slight understatement there, I admit), but I was writing to a friend and decided to transition some of it into a poem. I tend not to write poems that could ever fit into the category of sad, but I suppose that even pain needs its own poetry at times, hmm? As sometimes, there's just no other way to express it. Such a poison held within can only spread and cause more toxicity of the mind and emotions, and so it is far better to set them out, in full view of all, and accept they are there, for once you let pain free, it doesn't disappear, but you can at least stop choking on it. As a stubborn fool I've learned one too many lessons the hard way, and one of them was to not bottle up feelings, and it is one I will not soon forget. To anyone reading this, I recommend you do something to release any pent up emotions you have, be it writing a poem or simply talking to someone about it. Heck, I'm no wise man, but my inbox is always open to anyone that needs an anonymous ear. And if you're up for it, go tell someone else that you're always willing to lend an ear, or a shoulder to cry on, and spread comfort and love and do your best to make this world a happier place. If you love someone and can let them know, you should do it. This is not a poem about happiness, but that doesn't mean you can't learn from it, because I think that a lot of it is wrong. Most importantly, you can always make a cry for help if you need to, and don't be afraid to. Find someone you trust, someone who will listen, because they are out there, and tell them your woes. Even if they can't immediately help, as I said, putting things out in the open can help immensely. This poem wasn't really meant to be good in a poetic way, but I still thought it would be good to publish it anyway. I'll do my best to keep writing those sonnets that I want to do when I'm feeling up to it. (Why is it that I always write a message that's longer than the poem itself?)
- Category: Sad
- Views: 44
Comments1
Good Work Zarhon
Love to hear more
Thank you, I really appreciate the support!
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.