Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
H AE MZ Sep 2024
I look out, to see nothing
Only shadows that refuse to speak.
I look in, to feel nothing
As if my soul forgot how to breathe.

Once, I held hope in trembling hands,
A flame that flickered in the storm.
But winds of sorrow snuffed it out,
And left me cold, without a form.

Now i drift, untethered, unsure,
As a stranger to life I knew.
Is there a path beyond this dark?
Or is my fate to just pass through?

I've made the changes, stitched the seams,
A patched up heart, but no relief.
For what is better if hope is gone?
An empty vessel that holds my grief.

The days move on, yet I remain,
A drifting form, caught in between.
I reach for light beyond the dark,
But linger where no hope is seen.

So I exist, without a dream,
No spark to guide me through the night.
I wander through the haze of time,
A fading star, devoid of light.

Will hope return, or is it lost?
A question I may never know.
But even in this endless night,
I'll keep moving, slow and low.
"Where Am I Going" is a deeply personal poem that captures my own  sense of being lost, both internally and externally. Using imagery of shadows, storms, and fading light, I express feelings of numbness, grief, and the absence of hope. Even though I've made changes in my life, I recognize that without hope, those changes feel futile. I'm still searching for meaning, drifting in uncertainty, unsure if I'll ever find the answers I am looking for. Despite the darkness, there's a quiet resilience in me, as I keep moving forward—slowly and without clear direction. The final stanza leaves the question of hope open, reflecting my ongoing journey.
Crow Sep 2024
paralytic skies
hold close their embrace
folding in
upon themselves

glaring
burning cobalt eyes

crushing
their despairing captives

whose hollow faces
drag the recalcitrant air
into the cavities
of spiritless lungs

blood and bone
test the bars
of their inherited prison
built with
walls of allegorical stone

they cast
their harrowed gaze
upward

prospecting for pay dirt
through tapped out veins
of hope
and love
in strip mined heavens
Moo Sep 2024
Will I find you in Spring?
Immersed in profound happiness,
Or do I look for you in autumn?
In the depths of my despair,
Hollow and brittle,
Like the leaves.
Chad Roman Sep 2024
Here I lay,
Covered in hay
No game to play
No time to gain

I’m a story they say
With Some glory, hooray!
In an instant I’m prey
The cup taketh away

Do I despair in my day?
Or shall I weep for a ray?
Maybe clean up the clay
Or let the potter portray

A life with no sleigh
A chapter with grey
No sea, no bay
In no time I’m fey

But I’ll try, if I may
With a price, I’ll pay
Might I start today,
In a Rennesaince cafe!
Reimers Sep 2024
I don’t know anymore, how to feel something again
Feels like I’m drifting, lost in outer space, to god knows where
Unanchored from everything, yet my chest is heavy, eyes are lifeless
Each day repeats itself, every conversation feels hollow, insincere

I bury myself in work, not to build, but to forget
Laughter doesn’t echo, smiles barely stretch, just motions
And if I disappear, would it really matter?
It’s not selfish, just silent. Space swallows sound, and maybe it swallows me too.

In this silence, I lay dormant—
I no longer expect anymore.
There’s no pull, no push, just a vast, empty stretch.
The stars hang motionless, indifferent
and I’m no different
Sora Sep 2024
Is sorrow defined
by the absence of something you love
or the echoes of what you once held dear?

Or is it defined by the lack of warmth once felt,
the only remnant now, the shadows you learned to fear?

Perhaps it is neither.
Or perhaps, it is both.

All I know, and have known,
is that sorrow is what you feel after letting something go.
Maybe sorrow was meant to stay vague.
Sora Sep 2024
We are the things we so desperately desire be kept concealed:

the unsightly sensation of blood
painting our stained hands,

the sheer amount of hopelessness coursing inevitably
though the warren of our lifeless soul.

we are, what we are not.
A glimpse into the contradictions we hide within ourselves.
ironic, isn't it?
Sora Sep 2024
I gaze as the Sun retreats to its hollow cavern of darkness,
The stars a faint reminder of the vast emptiness that lies beyond.

A dove flew across my view,
And a daffodil gently landed on the windowpane.

Yet, it wasn't long before I realized that the Sun had set before it even rose.
Not everything lasts.
Sora Sep 2024
Like a candle,
The reflection of our shattered, but beating heart continues to grow Dimmer
As the passage of time goes on;
Kindled by our growing sorrow and the want to be ignited yet again for one final time,
The hours fleeting by as flowers wilt
And the ever-lasting rain ceases.
hope isn't always very steadfast, is it?
Next page