Bear with me on this please
I've been craving creativity rather absently
Dismally, there's nothing to guide me
No blissful excitement
No helping hand of inspiration
Not even a half beaten idea
Just a need to reclaim
What I feel like I've lost
(Or what's been stolen from me)
These are just some words within lines
Forming a confession to relieve the aimless craving inside
A bright, blinding light glows
Above me with brilliance,
Contrasting the ambiance.
My eyes are fixed on the hospital room's ceiling,
While my facial expressions change.
I see instruments used on me.
I let wave after wave of pain
Wash through me
And wait for the agony to subdue.
Sadly, hitherto, there is no distraction of any kind
That makes me forget the unbearable pain.
At the moment of utter helplessness,
The lines of my poem
Come to my rescue,
The words slowly taking birth,
Take my mind off agony.
I think of ways to describe
The hell I’m going through,
Knowing only too well
That I might not be the best person
To paint the picture.
Yet, here is my attempt!
I have the mad desire,
Raging through me,
To somehow leave my body,
Take my soul with me
And run away from the room.
I just wish I had the powers of Doctor Strange,
So I could escape into another realm,
Where I can have peace,
Where there is no pain.
Lying down there,
I secretly wish for death to take me,
Which I believe is sweeter
Than the inescapable torture
I face as a patient.
But that would make me selfish,
For I would leave my people,
The people who love me,
With a void that cannot be filled.
So, I wait patiently for my term
As a patient to come to an end.
And while I wait for the end,
I am writing this.
All is left couple of hours before your train arrives.
We had the best summer forever.
It was our late spring love.
I wish we could stop here for some more time.
I wish we could press rewind and begin everything from the earliest starting point.
I don't need to hear those comforting words when I know you will leave me alone.
Promise me you will remember when the night comes.
The time passes by it is turning out to be hard.
When I know we can't do anything further.
Now it is all over.
I have poems for your twinkle toes
and similes for your wrinkled nose
how it twitches
like the Bewitched witch's
I have poems for your starry eyes
reflecting all the star filled skies
each and every glistening datum
just as if your pupils ate them
not like a black hole swallowing solar systems
sucking light and all existence
but like an 8 ball of spotted shining wisdom
also like what I have written
So sleep deprived, yet I still can't seem to sleep.
Thoughts about you and I course through my veins and wash over me.
Memories flood my eyes, provoking tears to stain my cheeks.
Plummeting me into the ground.
Stabbing at my heart with vicious intentions.
he wonders if it will always feel like this.
will he ever feel anything at all?
it's hard to think about the future
when the past is so consuming.
he's drowning in it.
bad decisions fill up his lungs.
the way he died was the opposite of drowning,
however; his body is covered in scars
and he's terrified of candles.
she's young. she's two scared black eyes
and broken bones
and her small body torn apart
by someone she loved
for nothing at all.
she worries that her cat will be forgotten about.
she worries that it won't be fed.
at least then she'd have some company.
being dead is the loneliest thing in the world.
she's younger. she never even learned
how to read or write
and her crying echoes in my head sometimes.
she doesn't understand why
her family look right through her
as if she isn't there at all.
she can see them upset
but they ignore her
when she tries to make them better.
i see them all.
they speak to me
in the vain hope that something will happen.
i tell them there's a place after
but honestly, i don't know.
if there is,
no one comes back.