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Balkus Oct 2021
There is a light
at the end of the tunnel of life.
Light,
that has no reflection,
but shines.

Death is the beginning,
not the end.
It is brighter than life,
brighter than

anything else.
the light at the end of the tunnel
turned out to be the light
of a brand new dawn
blinding me,
i could not see
what was leading me
to this new beginning
light at the end of the tunnel
Andrew Rueter Jul 2021
Quite a draining journey
traveling through this drainage tunnel
groping my way through the disorienting darkness
arms of lifelessness reach out from the walls
constantly tugging at my shirt
it's my health that they hurt
when I try to run
they grab and stun
forcing me to buy movement
at the price of energy
they hold tokens in their hands
inscribed with the drainage brand
like the hair from the drain in my sink
or the phlegm drained from my sinuses
I wade through the **** of stomach minuses
moving through a drainage tunnel death funnel
aches develop in my feet
as well as my back
I can't handle the heat
or how the inside is black
I start walking slower and slower
as the ceiling gets lower and lower
the backbreaking pressure
makes my height lesser
so I crawl through the filth
of all this drainage I built
the hands that hold me down
are now my only company
their frustrating grabbing
now feels like a lulling caress
coaxing me to stay in this tunnel
all other voices are muddled
because of the drainage in my ear
blocking communication with fear
a wall of wax
that won't collapse
creates an axe
to cut off my head
from suffering dread
wondering when this tunnel will end
because there's no light to be found
in this tunnel I crawl down
gagged and bound
from the hands all around
grabbing at my brain
to push it down the drain.
Joshleen Kumar Jun 2021
I don't remember traveling to the tunnel
But I somehow got there
I don't remember how I travelled
Or if I paid the fare

As I entered the tunnel
A terrifying air surrounded me
Just when I wanted to turn and run
The tunnel turned into sea

I don't know how to swim
But I do know how to drown
As I surfaced to gasp for air
I was suddenly in a town

The town was empty and silent
And I was there alone
Just when I started to panic
I woke up at home

Till this day, every nightmare
is a journey through that tunnel.
Zak Feb 2021
Why wait for the Light
At the end of the Tunnel
When in Time
You will learn to see
In the Dark
Strying Feb 2021
I wonder if when I die
Someone will find comfort in the poems I write
That when I reach a peace
They too can see some sort of calm in the distance

Like a withering light
A flickering spark
It's fleeting
But enough for you to walk through the tunnel.
I wish my poems to be found after I die, although it's kinda a violation of privacy since I don't write these in my own name, I want to make a difference in the world even if it's just through language.
I recently found an author named Sylvia Plath and im absolutely amazed, yall
should check her out :)
People are mortal.
This world is changing constantly.
It seems so far away but some day we won't move with our bodies.
Going out is different.

Or maybe you'll just go back to another one of all those mortal places.
Well I'd say, I won't follow the light.
I've seen these tunnels many times.
Many different types.

I liked to enter them a lot but I won't go to the end again.
Maybe next time I'll try to resist temptation, not even get in.
Cause you've got to finish what you start like every end has to begin.
So even though I like the sight of a tunnel in the night I'll just leave and go inside myself.

And who will be the guard this time?
Will the feeling be like the vision?
I don't like this world, don't take me back.
Can I trust you when I lookat you?
I'll feel it on the inside.

People are mortal.
This world is changing constantly.
It seems so far away but some day we won't move with our bodies.
Going out is different.
27-01-21
Hammad Dec 2020
Sometimes,
In the darkest hour
All we need to do
is to close our eyes
and let the heart
walk us straight
and we will find the light
at the end of the tunnel...
joanna Aug 2020
Voices of people giving unsolicited advices on how to live my life echo loudly as I make my way to the end of the tunnel; and yet, no light has been found, rather, the voices become deafening as I continue my journey.

I look around in the pitch black tunnel, the earsplitting noises continue, making me feel apprehensive. The thought of the unknown scares me and I care too much so I listen to these blaring voices, booming with every stride I make.

I stop walking, as if these thundering voices weren’t enough to make me anxious, I feel many pairs of eyes glaring at me in this blinding darkness, secretly amused by my feeble state.

Am I still far?
Will I reach it?
Will I make it out alive?
Will I bump into someone — anyone — who has a map and a flashlight to share?

I quiver as I cross my arms and continue walking, hoping that I would soon see the light at the end of what seems to be a never ending tunnel.
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