I want to write poetry
But I only write monologues
I want to have everything
But you see there's this eerie fog
It drapes over my eyes and through my lungs
As I exhale I can see it hung.
I can't tell what it is
And it scares me to death
I turn to a sprint
Taking deep breaths
I end up stumbling and up above
I can see another one seemingly hung
A corpse in the forest, as lifeless as me
A corpse in the forest, can it really be?
As I step forward the fog clears
And my mind is free of its fears
The corpse was just the trunk of a tree
And now I can finally rest easy.
About the Creator
Indecisive inconvenience
Pain is gender neutral.
My name's Shawn, I'm 19, and I never learned how to write poetry.
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Emotions
Somehow these negative thoughts keep getting in. They're pushing under my fingernails and in through my skin. They fill me when I gasp for air, and if you really care, it only seems to slow while I'm pulling out my hair. You seem to greet my coping strategies with disdain as if it were better for me to be in pain. But you don't understand that talking doesn't help and walking off this shelf and falling and falling apart is how I live right now. I know I get distant, but what do you want me to do? Become happy in an instant? Become someone new? Pretend I'm not torn at ends on the inside? Or do you want the truth? To be the one to whom I confide? Honey, that was lost in youth. I wish I had words to explain how I feel, but it doesn't matter now, I feel how I feel, now go on, get out.
By Indecisive inconvenience6 years ago in Poets
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