"unguaranteed" poems
But why would you choose to love broken?
When the world is already in pieces?
Aren't you supposed to want whole, loved, and good?
Why would you work that much harder to search for me, just to prove I deserve love still? Underneath my darkness, the picked at scabs? I'm the ever so little amount of grains that could barely fit on your pinky finger. Filled with numbered happiness, unguaranteed strength for the people around her. For hersel-- myself. I am not worth saving. I am the whole universe, without all the stars, moons, planets. Just infinite black holes.
Mar 27, 2016
Mar 27, 2016 at 6:57 PM UTC
Mentally encased, 6 by 6
With hope of an escape,
But only with the impending danger
Of returning
Leaving without resolution
without closure
Only left scarred with memories
Even with a new-found 'freedom'
Never actually leaving the prison.
Left confined within our minds
Even whilst unbound.
left in solitude to cope
Left to eventually drown,
Losing your last breaths,
Your last hold on sanity....
Fighting a lost war
So I wait, till such a time,
For a release unguaranteed
But will know for sure
Of freedom and peace
- Rufaro Kaviya
Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 9:09 AM UTC
The shadow of death
Hangs
Over every head
Even water
Left alone
Will disappear
Life is struggle
Survival
Unguaranteed
The spirit
Defines
All
All
Words sometimes flow
Like currents
In a stream
At other times
They resist
They resist
And I crumble
Under the weight
Of my pen
Life is struggle
Yet I
In my ignorance
Do not know
Where this road
Will end
So I advance
Just a little further
With faith
My lone companion
Though all seems unchanging
Perhaps mysterious fortune, awaits
Perhaps
I seek courage
To lead a strange
And magnificent existence
To work to alleviate
A poverty of the soul
To enrich the intangible
With decorous trinkets
Of creative gold
I take it in
To let it go
Except that which
I hold dear
Though pallid sickness arises
From the pit of my stomach
And time in this dimension
Only fades
The memory of this experience
Though fleeting
Reminds me
Life is truly mystic
To live long
One has to make something
Out of nothing
To create
Where there was nought
This page, this very page
Once empty
Now besmattered with thoughts
Weaves its own thread
Of inner life
And so
Another day
Is complete
And new life
Begins
Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 1:36 PM UTC