"adiue" poems
I barricaded the door,
Screaming, lurching,
Gripped by myself,
Fear searing through every fibre,
Desperation tearing apart my soul,
My eyes and heart on fire.
I screamed loud,
You heard me but couldn't reach me,
Because I didn't want to be reached.
Or did I?
I smashed the glass,
Drew the shards across my wrists,
Slipped under, as warm blood poured down my arms,
Searching for sweet release.
In the haze I heard you knocking,
Then banging, then screaming.
Sirens in the distance,
Then closer.
Noise; a saw maybe.
Loud bangs,
Bright lights.
Beeps.
Beep, beep, beep.
I saw myself on the table,
Surrounded by doctors,
My body a ****** mess,
The green line becoming weaker,
Then flat.
As a child they said that you go to hell,
If you ********** or hurt other people,
Or if you hurt yourself.
It's the only thing that kept me alive so long.
When I returned from the dead they told me to get help;
The church, doctors, charities,
Be mindful, watch the world,
Relax, meditate,
Get better.
But there's no getting away from yourself,
And when you're this broken you can never be fixed.
Not by anybody else, not by yourself;
Not even by those who love you.
And so I sit here, again.
The door locked, more secure this time.
The glass sits on the shelf next to me,
Ready to be broken.
I know to be silent, not to scream,
Not this time,
But to silently slip under without saying goodbye.
It's selfish, I know, to find peace for myself,
And to leave others screaming,
My friends, my family, my children,
But they don't know this pain,
Only I do,
And I know it has to end.
Maybe then, they can stop worrying,
Move on with their lives,
Forget about this 300lb weight they were carrying,
Which was causing them to sink,
A millstone, not a man.
A failure who was supposed to provide,
Make things better,
But who instead destroyed everything.
I feel calm, not terror;
My hand doesn't even shake as I write this note;
Yet I don't even know why I write.
A pause? Clarity?
A goodbye?
Perhaps all three, but defintely not a cry for help.
I've cried all my tears.
Unrepentent, yet sorry for everything,
This is, without question, the end.
Adiue.
Perhaps all three, but defintely not a cry for help.
Aug 29, 2018
Aug 29, 2018 at 12:20 AM UTC
let go the words
like seeds,
to the vast and
windblown
sky
let them settle,
where they may.
some may flourish,
take root and be...
a happy little flower,
a great oak tree.
some may lay dormant,
until the right season.
some may become,
a life's new reason.
some may fall
to ravening birds
some may fall
ans flourish
yet never be heard.
and sadly some may
wither and die...
without ever understanding, why....
we as poets,
truly are,
just the sowers of seeds.
to the winds....
to the sky,
let your words go,
let them fly...
to some say, adiue
see you soon.
to some goodbye.
but let them be...
borne on the wind
...to make poetry
Aug 9, 2014
Aug 9, 2014 at 3:43 AM UTC
you fret, sob, and then cry
uncontrollably, you think, but never knew why.
you put your head against min
and there's no way i would, in a million years, complain.
talk and talk and talk
pour out all you've got then wash it out.
for you, i'll never be in a state of apathy.
i am, and forever, here, so come to me.
dear lady,
why are you so afraid?
there is no need for you to hide.
kiss adiue that rather gruesome disguise.
tell me if you're sad,
tell me when you're fine,
tell me all things.
never tell me, "au revoir"
see, girl
please let me say this
but i do not mean to brag
i am so much like what you lay your head on every night.
give me the right to day that i am so much better
because i have the heart and it does not.
i can talk back and hug you right.
i will listen. always listen.
i know that i may be not the one you need.
and this is not so much of a plead,
but maybe yes as well.
i tell you, i can just be the boy.
Jun 1, 2015
Jun 1, 2015 at 1:34 PM UTC