That’s all I see,
Let me taste,
How could I lie,
That ill-thought night,
I made you cry,
A soul-torn plight.
I do admit though,
Inside this knot,
You called me a liar,
Said; go fester and rot.
On purities pyre,
A monolith grows higher,
Strewn through pain I wrought upon us both,
That night in the fire.
But you still know this,
If I ever spoke truth,
I’d be a night-crowns kill,
A shell of a man,
So love you I will,
As much as I can.
Hate…Hate is the dread reflection of ignorance, the consequence of an uninformed agony; A plague upon the soul. Fight back against it, always.
I’m trying to find that place inside myself, that thing, that makes me feel like what I’m doing matters. That’s the thing that burns away the pain.
A stone’s stuck in me.
It’s like ice. Starts as lump in your throat, seems like sadness, before it spreads. Nothing phases you. You shiver, but don’t really feel the cold, as your blood pools around your vitals. Calcifying into stone.
The hurt is gone, and you wish it would come back. Even the grey has fled, that lovely, middling, warmth. I’d die twice to be permanently content, easier to break limb and bone.
That’s the logic, though, isn’t it? The opposite of inspired. Eating, writing, sleeping…They take a break, until you feel enough to start crying, a quieter tone.
Those beautiful tears, I love them. They’ve kept me back from The Brink more than a reason, purpose, or you ever could. They’ve seen me for what I am, I guess you’ve always known. I’m sorry.
Related short story: https://bluebeard-art.com/cant-keep-goin-on/
Easy——->Click for formatted PDF version of Poem
These lighter poems, I write them to a specific person. I think that’s why they are so stripped down. They’re honest, embarrassingly so. I don’t think that’s the worst thing for poem to be. It isn’t deep, confusing, or all that thought provoking, but I mean it.
Unformatted version below.
The pain that’s easiest to hide,
The one hurt I couldn’t abide,
The times I want to die,
Are when I stop feeling alive.
But you threw the die,
Told me to try,
You didn’t laugh when I’d start to cry,
Or when I told you to help me fly,
Away from here.
That all I wanted was to be free,
And you were the key,
You were okay with letting me be,
If you haven’t spent a week in pajamas before, oh man, you are missing out!
I had a bit of a rough week, as some of you (*Cough Sheila) may have gathered from my Cynic quotes. I worked really hard to get caught up in chemistry and bio-stats, as well as follow through with my Big Brothers/Big Sisters and Mercy hospital volunteering, only to realize I had not been paying enough attention to calculus. Unfortunately, I think I bit off more than I can chew this semester, and may be forced to drop the calculus. I can blame teacher (who is not good at teaching), but ultimately, it’s my fault. At a point, I just feel like I’m hitting my head against brick, waiting to either get a concussion or learn maths, whatever happens first.
Hired a tutor to help out, hopefully I can catch up without inhibiting my other courses, work, or my writing and drawing.
Not all bad news, met with adviser and found out I’m farther along then I thought. I’m also working with a man (I can’t give out names) at the hospital who is a really talented illustrator. Similar to what you’d find in Marvel or DC comics. He has literal piles of drawings that he showed me, really cool stuff.
This handsome fellow making a pillow fort below, is Rufus. He’s my toothless doggo and I love him. Picture quality isn’t that great, sorry about that. Thanks to my parentals for sending the pic, really cheered me up when I needed it.
I switched my pillow to the other end of the bed last night. It made me feel happy.