if i were to start writing about my life
my pages would stay blank
with unfilled lines, maybe the occasional scribble,
the doodles that bleed through pages
into the wooden desk underneath
and my finger – a drop of blood crowning the tip –
will shake till a masterpiece of blood and tears
adorned the page –
these rambles trip and stumble with no rhythm or rhyme –
why? i never claimed to be a rapper, singer, someone with talent-
this is the bare me, torn from the seams,
you see the fallen petals of the rose
and the thorns bleeding into my dry skin –
all me, with the clumsiness of a giraffe too lost in the dreams
and too blind to reality – i see too much,
the eye of the oracle, i see what has been and what will be,
but my own future lies blank,
i am overwhelmed by the yawning abyss
all these words spill out of my fingers – mouth? brain? –
with no filter, i write this draft once and post,
too afraid that if i let it sit, i’ll draw the curtains over the window
and you’ll see only the sunshine on the red velvet
instead of the battlefield rubble digging into torn landscape
don’t you see these chaotic thoughts skim off the pond
look closely and you can see the reflection of myself
on the surface – i bleed and burn, crumpling into ash –
i am lost, blind, wandering through these woods,
i’m afraid i’ll never survive –
what is survive? is it to succeed? or is to take a breath everyday? –
these people watch me wander by,
i search for the elusive gold –
i’m selfish, don’t be mistaken, humans are selfish,
but i may be more selfish than others –
is it my age, i wonder? i want to be the best i can be now
as the sun bleeds its inchor across the sky,
i grasp for the hidden stars
i’m still lost
where is the horizon?
i literally wrote this in ten minutes. none of this is edited. i wrote it, didn’t look at it, and posted it… we’ll see how this turns out. i’m sure there are a million mistakes. but, really, this is what flowed from my brain to my fingers as i typed this out. these worries linger on the edges of my thoughts. who am i? what does it mean to survive? how can i be the best version of myself? am i too selfish? what is the future in front of me? why can i tell what will happen to others and society, but i can’t see my future? why do i feel as if the road ahead of me is lost?
where is this horizon to this endless night?
Great spontaneous poem about existence and self definition! These are questions that loom inside all of us and you’ve posted them quite elegantly. Thanks for posting!
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Thank you so much for reading! I’m glad you enjoyed it ❤
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