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65 · Apr 2020
Ripped Away
harini Apr 2020
As I walked down a beaten path,
Adorned with lifeless leaves and cobblestones,
My sleepless eyes gazed upon,
Untampered beauty in its most subtle form.

Her golden tresses danced so gracefully in the wind,
And her hazel eyes glowed with a heavenly sheen,
A delicate, warm smile materialized on her luscious, blood red lips,
All I could see was unmatched perfection, more alluring than anything I have ever seen.

I could feel a warmth so unfounded, yet so welcoming,
As I felt my hopelessness waft into the tranquil air,
My feet turned to inert stone as I stood frozen,
Yet my warm blood seemed to rush within me.

She smiled gracefully, and neared with delicate steps,
And seemed to float through the sea of blooming snow,
Her voice filled with nectar, tinkled with a hidden charm,
As she beckoned me closer, more lovingly than anyone I have heard before

But before I could step forward, I felt myself being pulled away,
And the gentle breeze blew into a raving storm,
I struggled helplessly, as my feet trembled like quivering hands in the winter dawn,
As I could feel my paradise crashing down.

I blinked for a moment, against the pitiless dust soaring around,
And then widened my blinded eyes in horror,
She stood there, letting out a gut-wrenching scream,
As her dainty body shook like a trembling, dead leaf.

As I collapsed feebly on the quacking ground,
Clutching myself, with my tears flowing down,
Her shrieks continued, each more pitiable than the other,
Her angelic face now twisting into that of unbearable agony.

The surroundings melted into a vicious black,
As her beady eyes sprouted crimson sobs,
Her yells resounded in an unceasing melody,
As I closed my eyes for the last time in my haven.

I wake up panting, shuddering as if jolted from a nightmare,
As I find myself chained once more in that familiar, cruel abyss,
My eyes tear up, as I now know,
She was there, before me in all her bounty, and now is ripped away, yet again.
A poem which can be interpreted by the reader however they like.
46 · Apr 2020
The Clock ticks on
harini Apr 2020
The clock ticks on,
Its steady rhythm echoing within my ringing ears,
Reminding me of the impending doom drenching my heart,
As the gnawing claws tear me apart from within,
The ground seems to evaporate from beneath my trembling limbs,
Threatening to swallow up my very existence.

Watering eyes and hitched pants send me into a spiralling frenzy,
The deafening voices from within rival my muffled screams,
I wish to break open, I wish to be free,
Begging for redemption from the suffocation that fills me.

Hurried steps; flailing arms; collapsing whimpers; endless throbbing
They all seem to blend together into a disastrous symphony,
Shutting out the words of concern, panic and jeering that envelope my surroundings,
Ignoring pounding doors and worried calls,
Crumbling into a pathetic mess of hopelessness and hate,
I shriek out, palpitations jerking my entire being.

As everything seems to stop and melt away,
As the voices cease and the lights blur out,
The familiar chiming numbs all feelings and emotions as I continue to drown,
The clock ticks away, as slow as ever,
The clock ticks on.
A poem about anxiety and panic by an amateur writer who greatly appreciates Constructive Criticism and Feedback

— The End —