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After the Dust Settles

What will there be left of me?

By BPublished 5 years ago 1 min read
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Late at night

sometimes things come to me in flashes,

offering me a way into my subconscious.

As my eyes get heavy

and sleep overtakes me

my mind begins to flash away

to somewhere far from here.

Flash away.

I stare at a young woman sitting in a field adorned with

the vibrant petals of flowers

in shades of pink and gold.

She picks the petals as tears stream down her face

as the weight of conflicting love takes its toll.

Flash away.

The woman sits alone in her secluded paradise

looking out onto the water

light glistening off its surface.

Cross legged she sits

with a book in her hand

and a pen in the other.

Desperately she tries to share the thoughts

torturing her mind

through the union of parchment and pen.

Flash away.

The woman is now stumbling down the long empty streets

tears streaming down her face.

A sob of heartbreak occasionally escaping her liquor laced lips.

Desperate for anything

to relieve her from her inner turmoil

as she wonders why she wasn't good enough.

Flash away.

The woman sits with her arms wrapped around her knees.

Staring into the nothingness.

Begging for the compulsions to fade from her poisoned mind

whispering to her to just give in

to its toxic hidden desire.

Flash away.

In the early morning hours

I stir from my slumber

tears already forming before

my eyes begin to open.

The glimpse into the repressed memories

I have tried to keep hidden

has brought with it a wave of emotions.

As I sit up in bed

I wonder if this is all life will ever be.

A series of sadness and suffering.

Time and time again it has come back to this.

Where I remain stuck, as the sadness has become almost comfortable.

With the saddest thing of it all being

I no longer know if happiness is possible for me.

The sadness has become so ingrained and entrenched

Within what is left of my fractured soul

I do not know what I would be

without it.

After the dust settles

What will there be left of me?

sad poetry
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About the Creator

B

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