Fire

Tue, 04/30/2019 - 18:40 -- Phiwo

Passing passing passing

Most days are ice and cold blurring lines

Of nothingness, forgotten,

the hourglass fractures

 

His days were always hostile and unfulfilling

Yet he smiles, melting the world

Cold calculating and bursting at the seams

With the eyes of hardened diamond and honey

 

There where the swallow sits chirping in its branch

Feathers of amber and gold gazing

Upon the lost forest where dreams

And fantasy is made

 

“The world”  is what you make it

Glaring at the gray skies of smoke and iron

He stutters, a breathe, a gasp, nothing

He sits and stares and thinks

 

With skinny fingers, a brittle hand reach above to open flame,

up high where it burns and shines: they’re the same

Fickle ashe hair reflecting what has been

All along

 

The life of one is worth the world in his eyes

Yet here he sits alone

Silent, a dime drops and he opens up

Wonders of world spill from his pen and his mind

Is anew

 

Narratives of time and time again

Of pain, of power, of longing, of life and triumph

The last chapter, the last moment, finally complete

A letter sent

a dime drops, the hourglass shatters and time stops

 

Guide that inspired this poem: 

Comments

Phiwo

This poem is aboout dealing with mental illness and the fact that not everyone makes it through like the author who wrote this poem or some of the people who are reading this poem now who are might fell the same or are at the end of their ropes and feel hopeless. This peom was written from the perspective of my own experience with depression and going thorugh it made me mopre compassionate for people I would say and more sympathy than I already had. 

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