Blackhole in France

Living in a secure and sound house

As warm as a cub

As safe as a guarded building

As peaceful as a meditation room

But that’s all in the past

 

Now I’m in a

dark infected house

with over 200 people

it feels as if I’m stranded in a dessert

hard to survive, difficult to escape

hopeless of the future

 

Nothing to do

except watch the others around me

rot in this blackhole

that we call ‘home’

 

The longer I’m here (repetition)

The more I know

The more I learn

There’s no hope for us

 

How can we reach for the stars

When were trapped in a cage

Alone again(alliteration)

My thoughts rush faster and harder than a rainfall

 

As I start wandering off

watching the infected people

wondering

why bother obeying them

who are they to

control us

we are humans

not dolls

in a real life dollhouse

 

Day by day

we lose one of our own

death feels like a forest fire,

but instead of tree’s burning

people are dying

either from natural causes

or from a gun to the heart

 

Soon enough

I get infected

Surprisingly they release me of

my misery

 

Back home

I went from fighting in a war

to sitting down with my loved ones for dinner

A storm has just passed, a wound has been healed

 

This poem is about: 
Our world

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741