A lake Running deep A line stretched To its core. What is it that makes me so Unsure?
A hand In a trembling fit Reaches towards a heaven, May I be free forevermore.
A threatening warmth in my centre Drowns my soul, Permanently stuck in a winter It’s futile to wait For the passing of the cold So I am stuck In my own Quicksand. Stuck Not being able to understand The magnitude of it all And so I fall And a certain numbness takes over me A certain bewilderment Because I have been seized and I do not see.
Oh how I love the ambiguity of the word ‘sea’: It could mean lovely serenity, otherwise destructive tsunamis; It embodies both abundance of peace, and/or luxuriance of lonesomeness; It deceits us through its luring crystalline waters with the deathly depths we’re unaware of.
We do our extensive research But yet, we still may not come up with the right solution In a state of bewilderment With lots of frustration and confusion We feel incomplete Because, we are often left in darkness Fear and anxiety sadly appear Some of us would rather keep in silence
Visiting my parents I learned that I am being played, a game in which I am board and piece and ****** weapon. When a picture of me sulky toddler evokes “You always hated me” roots uncurl hibernated spores stored through my salad days and youthful spring. Broach the soil as I ****, ankles grabbed, leg-locked planted firm reaching. What do you think grows down there? Digging has turned up rotted fibers, matted hairs and husks.