No, nothing, but a poem.

Tue, 07/12/2016 - 12:43 -- hafranz

Words flow and ebb

and I feel them 

more than the others.

No pain

No color

No light

Can be heard in my words by them.

My voice is oft ignored

the letters form a web

and I struggle more than others.

But in the world 

of the poem

there are no others.

No letters

No struggles

No web.

Nothing to pull me but my own emotion

in a tide of language

spilling from my hands onto the page

warming in my pride

burning in my rage.

A poem rests when I am done

with the words of the world I had won.

I can see

No terror

No others

No ignorance.

Nothing to fail but my own heart pure.

Maybe someday I will inspire,

ignite a flame, a burning fire

in another

to see what I hear

to hear what I see. 

And like those before me

on their long blackened pyres

I will leave behind all

No death to the dust

No loss to the pain

No lack of darkness

Nothing but my own poem.

 

 

This poem is about: 
Me

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

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