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It's Not the Light (1 Viewer)

[FONT=&quot]Please be kind... this is my first poem after mostly prose fiction. I just wrote this as a way to reflect my feelings.

Darkness feeds on my mind [/FONT]
Like a hungry lion on a fresh kill.
I cannot escape.
It surrounds me,
The walls close in on me,
Until I am nothing but a tired soul,
Drifting, waiting, and uselessly hoping to be free.
I reach for the light,
But I feel no hand taking mine
And pulling me out of the hell that I am in.
[FONT=&quot]
[/FONT]
I scratch the walls of my dark- guarded cage
Until my fingernails bleed and my fingers grow raw.
My lungs scream for air.
My chest tightens.
The air feels like water,
Scorching my body as I gasp for air.
[FONT=&quot]
[/FONT]
If only I had gills.
Instead my body burns with every breathe I take
And I am resigned to my ravenous cage.
[FONT=&quot]
[/FONT]
I must be free,
If even for a moment.
The pain waivers,
My heart slows,
And I revel in the pain
For any pain is better than this.
[FONT=&quot]
[/FONT]
At last, my mind relieves me
And the darkness quiets down
Enough for me to sleep fitfully.
But the water still scorches my lungs
And my fingernails still bleed
But I imagine the light
And what it must be like
To bask in the sun.
 

jenthepen

Staff member
Mentor
I can feel the pain in this one, Christian. It's great that the ending has a small turn towards optimism and a way out. Poetry is a wonderful way to purge emotion and I hope that chink of light at the end signalled a small change in the way you were feeling.
 

ritudimrinautiyal

Senior Member
[FONT=&quot]Please be kind... this is my first poem after mostly prose fiction. I just wrote this as a way to reflect my feelings.

Darkness feeds on my mind [/FONT]
Like a hungry lion on a fresh kill.
I cannot escape.
It surrounds me,
The walls close in on me,
Until I am nothing but a tired soul,
Drifting, waiting, and uselessly hoping to be free.
I reach for the light,
But I feel no hand taking mine
And pulling me out of the hell that I am in.
[FONT=&quot]
[/FONT]
I scratch the walls of my dark- guarded cage
Until my fingernails bleed and my fingers grow raw.
My lungs scream for air.
My chest tightens.
The air feels like water,
Scorching my body as I gasp for air.
[FONT=&quot]
[/FONT]
If only I had gills.
Instead my body burns with every breathe I take
And I am resigned to my ravenous cage.
[FONT=&quot]
[/FONT]
I must be free,
If even for a moment.
The pain waivers,
My heart slows,
And I revel in the pain
For any pain is better than this.
[FONT=&quot]
[/FONT]
At last, my mind relieves me
And the darkness quiets down
Enough for me to sleep fitfully.
But the water still scorches my lungs
And my fingernails still bleed
But I imagine the light
And what it must be like
To bask in the sun.

Hi ChristianClovers,
Got engrossed in your poem. The imagery pulled me there, and I too started assuming the same feel.... Hell of a feeling I swear, suffocation unbearable but mind always finds a tunnel for light required.
Nice work. Keep writing.
Good luck.

Ritu
 
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