Untitled (a poem I wrote when I was 14 that I just found)

April 17, 2013 § Leave a comment

Does this sadness

take the hand of success?

Can I not make

without demons hollowing me out

like a tree to sit in

to pray?

 

Sorrow is ink,

tearless, I am a desert

of inspiration.

 

I don’t feel the need to record

how the sick get better

and people get married

and no-one ever grows up

I want to write dark,

 

Suffocate in black satin

billowing in dank wind

at the top of a castle

reflecting  every flaw,

hiding a stashed sword.

 

I want to grasp the shadows

and squash them like little slugs

until muffled screams

become music

 

Love only melts

in boiled blood

to blank.

 

I draw with soot

and loneliness

and that eerie feeling of falling

that jerks you from slumber

with a bang

making you question

your safety

and turn on the radio to sleep,

 

Because if I wasn’t hollow

there would be nowhere for the words

to go.

jp5085

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