(Author’s notes: A poem that came to me at 15/16 years old., then revised.
The dash is a beat and the ellipsis is a long pause.)
My life isn’t as bad as it seems,
that even in the darkness there are beams,
Of light that shine through.
And yet I spiral into a vortex of depression,
Like the recession of an economy.
I don’t call it depression.
That would be like a blow in my entrails.
A pain, I fear. So sharp that:
it would drag my soul so low
and so close to the edge of …
Somehow in my screwed-up head,
Acknowledging it is equivalent to a failure.
So I hold my resistance,
And ignore the existence,
Of that phantom word that I try so hard to erase.
Or at least to fade into the haze,
Of a thousand other words.
From the moment I was born,
I’ve always been a fighter.
But piece by piece, I am torn,
By a black whole we call life.
It’s like I’m trapped in a whirlpool of: ‘I don’t know,
who I am, what to do or where to go’?
My feelings are like the past of alphabet soup,
So confused that I am stuck in a loop,
When I’m alone my face is a perfect reflection,
Of the conflict that is going through my head.
So even in the delusion,
I am led to the conclusion,
That there must be something wrong with - me.
The Lights start to dim,
the gleam of hope fades.
My life passes me by in a constant routine.
Now that I am eighteen
I grasp onto consciousness,
Realizing and felling like I’m not as happy as I seem.
At 21 I look back,
At those dark day I had.
I am glad I am now on track,
To a better life and a better place.
-- By Aurora Ejikeme