Poetry not nearly befitting to be published.
Three poems I've written over the past while, mostly morose.
No working titles, interpret them however you will.
1.
I always wonder the cries I let out.
Whether I seek the attention or a desperate help.
Whether the string is the last and the straws that break my back, or if I say it all for I am lonely.
I always wonder, the attention or to be coddled, to be told things are fine, that life’s worth living and wondrous.
And I know so little of what wondrous is, of happiness or the endurance of life.
I know so much more of the voice in my head, accompanied by a choir that yells, kicks and screams so vile.
I wonder whether for attention, for a moment to not feel so alone, so forgot.
To feel so without, left empty always. I’ve never known these things we sing of, only the voice and the choir that kicks and screams within my head, a cacophony of blasted sound and manic whispers.
I know so much more of broken, beaten, lost. The tears that crack and leave me dry, sobbing for reasons I struggle to comprehend and some I know so well.
Tell me to live of wonder and life and I know only to ask.
What is it?
It grips myself by day and night, the shadow past and future.
I have cried a thousand tears ten thousand times and I will cry them so many more.
I am gripped by day, gripped by night and I will whimper as I close my eyes.
Fearful, sorrow, kept by the chains in mind, stronger than steel.
I have cried and I have feared.
This fear I live and now I no longer wish to be released of fear.
Be released of the life that lives within it.
My heart pounds in the dead of night, I whimper and whine and when I cry no more I scream silently in this hollow night.
I have lived in fear and it is the fear that I will be so scared I will live life no longer.
I am scared.
I stand by fire, the darkness near. Look across at weary eyes, sorrowed oh rought with fear.
The fire flickers and the light comes darkness near.
I would be brave oh though I am caught in fear.
The light not whispers, the darkness near.
I would be brave, oh it is not the fear.
It courses, runs like blood through vein, it is in me, it is me and the darkness, now the darkness needn’t be near.
I would be brave, but I become so encumbered by fear and I ask how, when I am so perilously scared.
The light not whispers, the darkness needn’t near, it courses, runs like blood through vein and I would ask how oh I be so brave.
This fear controls me, permit, permit, permit by the will of what has not become my own.
Arrogance, to see not for I am safe.
The safety is not permanent, the light flickers and arrogance, permit, permit the fear.
I am the will of none my own, I shake, quiver and quake and I ask, how, how I be so brave.
It courses, it runs, like blood through vein, fear it is, permit by arrogance.
The darkness nears and I know.
I would not ask how to be brave in fear.
It is only the fear that makes me brave.
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