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Iain-cooperPoems
Those dreams of tomorrow are gone The future was but a mistaken shadow The fire burns ashes into this oken wall It is now a trip, for me, through this black forest Blacker, blacker, black the forest becomes Lost, I am, in these living forests of ebony Blackened trunks wall the muddy trails A hall I journey into, nowhere to turn I make my way down this endless tunnel The living trees close the path behind me Darker, darker, dark the tunnel goes The further I venture, the less I may see The trees reach their limbs to halt my path The trees curl their roots to trip my step When will this end? Is freedom an option for me? Or do I lay down and die like the bodies before me? Harder, harder, hard it is to trek these woods Only black before me and only black behind Here I sit, in this blackened hall of trees Here, I'm alone, in this toil of misery Here, I drink alone. Drown my sorrow Here I cry, unheard by friendly ears Here I scream, unknown by any man Here I sit, in the Forests Of Ebony...
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May 5, 2016
May 5, 2016 at 9:43 PM UTC
Forests Of Ebony
Those dreams of tomorrow are gone The future was but a mistaken shadow The fire burns ashes into this oken wall It is now a trip, for me, through this black forest Blacker, blacker, black the forest becomes Lost, I am, in these living forests of ebony Blackened trunks wall the muddy trails A hall I journey into, nowhere to turn I make my way down this endless tunnel The living trees close the path behind me Darker, darker, dark the tunnel goes The further I venture, the less I may see The trees reach their limbs to halt my path The trees curl their roots to trip my step When will this end? Is freedom an option for me? Or do I lay down and die like the bodies before me? Harder, harder, hard it is to trek these woods Only black before me and only black behind Here I sit, in this blackened hall of trees Here, I'm alone, in this toil of misery Here, I drink alone. Drown my sorrow Here I cry, unheard by friendly ears Here I scream, unknown by any man Here I sit, in the Forests Of Ebony...
This is how I would describe my social anxiety. I end up alone, trapped within my own mind.
#depression#nature#darkness#self-hatred#social-anxiety
Iain-cooper
Written by
Iain-cooper
May 5, 2016
May 5, 2016 at 9:43 PM UTC
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