Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Oct 2015
How do you see yourself, are you strong and cunning, or are you quiet and awkward. I see myself as barely hanging on to the branch of hope from the tree of despair. I planted this tree many years ago from the pain and hurt that the world has so generously thrown towards me. This tree consist of the stump where you first started this scary road at age 5, you slowly move up the tree going towards the branches. The first branch signifies the first beating, the leafs on the branch show how many times, over and over again. The next branch is from your first bruise as a child, the leafs over growing the branch because there are just too many to count. The third branches is a little better, your first smile in a long time, this branch has had very few leafs for quite some time. Now lets jump to age 8, your eighth branch that consist of many twigs, where things seem so dim and so fragile that the twigs could snap at any time because things could turn back to bad so fast. Your ninth branch is a very special branch, you see a little light of hope where maybe you think god is there. Age 11, you're up to branch thirteen where you’re still trying to recover from the unfair hurt this is an empty branch, still unable to figure out how to reclaim yourself. Your fourteenth branch is called the branch of fear, now this branch is filled with leafs because you’re just terrified of everything. The fifteenth branch is where you hold all your pain and fears this branch is covered with leaves on twigs, the twigs are your fears and the leaves are the pain you've endured. Or how about the branch of forgiveness where you’re unsure if you should leave a leaf or not. We’re up to age 15 where acceptance is key, this is a branch with a single leaf, as I'm still trying to forgive and leave a second leaf. Right now I’m hanging from the branch where I have hope dangling from very few leaves, but I’m slipping and might not be able to hang on to this branch for much longer. Now we come to the rigorous days of rain that is constantly pouring down, all my emotions hitting every branch.
Nickoli
Written by
Nickoli
471
   --- and Earl Jane
Please log in to view and add comments on poems