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ThecocoonedWarrior
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Poems2
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Words113
Hope, this is going to come across like I’m being a tad bit ungrateful. But I swear I’m not. I know what you’ve done. I know who you’ve been to me. But I need you to understand that sometimes, I think you are an absolute **** You are relentless. You show up when I want to give in. When I want to close my eyes and go to sleep, and never wake again. HOPE, you come to me in moments when I feel like I’m done. This is the last battle, and I didn’t win. I’m okay with that. I want to lose. Just LET ME LOSE. Let me lay here on this cold, ***** floor. Let me catch hypothermia, lose my toes. Let me close my eyes and drift away. Let me sleep for eternity. Knock.....Knock Who’s there?? It’s me. HOPE! GIRL! Why are you here? WHAT DO YOU WANT?! They won’t stop knocking me down, and you keep bringing me back up just so they can knock me down harder. I got up enough times. LOOK AT MY KNEES. LOOK!!! Look at my fingers where I’ve dug them into the earth just to get on my feet again. STOP! Just stop with “there is always tomorrow.” It WON’T be brighter. It WON’T be better. You’re a liar. A ******* LIAR!!! I hate you. Just go away, Hope. Please. … Wait. Wait, HOPE, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I really didn’t. Hope… thanks for always showing up. Thanks for being there. Thanks for not letting me wither away. Thanks for not letting me wallow in my misery. Thanks for being relentless. My dearest HOPE, without you, they would’ve all won. But because of you, I get one more chance to say **** you, I’m still here. Now, this doesn’t mean I still don’t think you’re a **** sometimes. Visit me soon. I know I will need you again.
0
Sep 30, 2025
Sep 30, 2025 at 2:59 PM UTC
ThecocoonedWarrior
A **** Named Hope
Hope, this is going to come across like I’m being a tad bit ungrateful. But I swear I’m not. I know what you’ve done. I know who you’ve been to me. But I need you to understand that sometimes, I think you are an absolute **** You are relentless. You show up when I want to give in. When I want to close my eyes and go to sleep, and never wake again. HOPE, you come to me in moments when I feel like I’m done. This is the last battle, and I didn’t win. I’m okay with that. I want to lose. Just LET ME LOSE. Let me lay here on this cold, ***** floor. Let me catch hypothermia, lose my toes. Let me close my eyes and drift away. Let me sleep for eternity. Knock.....Knock Who’s there?? It’s me. HOPE! GIRL! Why are you here? WHAT DO YOU WANT?! They won’t stop knocking me down, and you keep bringing me back up just so they can knock me down harder. I got up enough times. LOOK AT MY KNEES. LOOK!!! Look at my fingers where I’ve dug them into the earth just to get on my feet again. STOP! Just stop with “there is always tomorrow.” It WON’T be brighter. It WON’T be better. You’re a liar. A ******* LIAR!!! I hate you. Just go away, Hope. Please. … Wait. Wait, HOPE, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I really didn’t. Hope… thanks for always showing up. Thanks for being there. Thanks for not letting me wither away. Thanks for not letting me wallow in my misery. Thanks for being relentless. My dearest HOPE, without you, they would’ve all won. But because of you, I get one more chance to say **** you, I’m still here. Now, this doesn’t mean I still don’t think you’re a **** sometimes. Visit me soon. I know I will need you again.
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There is a quiet beauty in those souls society has deemed 'not enough'. A beauty that glows in the eyes, pooled with the depth of pain— a soul that was wounded, but never broken. The world sees only their quiet treading. But I see— a warrior in rest. Where can you go when your mind is the battleground? Not of ideas, but of your very existence— when the judge, the jury, and the executioner all live within. Does society not see? No flesh could ever contain such a fearless warrior, hiding in themselves from themselves just to walk among us, mere mortals.
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Sep 29, 2025
Sep 29, 2025 at 3:49 PM UTC
ThecocoonedWarrior
Warrior in Rest
There is a quiet beauty in those souls society has deemed 'not enough'. A beauty that glows in the eyes, pooled with the depth of pain— a soul that was wounded, but never broken. The world sees only their quiet treading. But I see— a warrior in rest. Where can you go when your mind is the battleground? Not of ideas, but of your very existence— when the judge, the jury, and the executioner all live within. Does society not see? No flesh could ever contain such a fearless warrior, hiding in themselves from themselves just to walk among us, mere mortals.
Continue reading...
25