Metal chairs, rusty and worn
Supporting the weight of the world
Mistakes and regrets hang thick
in the smoke filled air.
Spirits of past lives mixing
with future aberrations.
Hope ever present, but quickly dismissed
fear and sorrow more comforting companions.
The stories are recycled, coffee stale
and laughs, half hearted.
But the pain, the pain is real, raw and fresh.
Scars visible from across the room - across lifetimes.
Pain caused, created, worsened - to others.
Scars worn, only to remember.
Scars that don't heal, even when the pain does.
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Author:
TrystanBehm (
Offline) - Published: January 31st, 2018 08:04
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 37
Offline)
Comments2
The poem is striking and dark, but I have to wonder how it connects to the title?
Thanks for the comment Aislinn - the title is purposeful as it is derived from the specific environment that helped create the poem. While it seems odd and disconnected, for anyone who has been in that specific environment, the linkage will be immediate. It's not necessarily an environment most would want to be in so I figured the title would strike some as odd, but for those few that have been there - they will appreciate the title 🙂 This poem is written to make a small population of people feel - not unique.
Well written and expressed
Thanks as always, Tony!
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