In this world,
out there in open,
many things appear to be broken.
In this world, when it’s the darkest,
I find myself restless and breathless,
running back to the nest,
never safe, but where it’s best.
In this world, if ever so bright,
let there be a ray of light,
a new life, a new sprout,
let it, oh please, be found.
A long-held dream
regrettably, it’s not all what it seems.
A promise made, a secret kept,
where silence is never to be seen again.
A reckless risk, a mighty wish,
blowing back and forth in a sweet breeze.
In this world, despair’s the ruler.
You’ll never hear of anything much crueler.
So here we are left,
There’s no one to blame,
nothing to tame,
it can’t be defeated,
it can’t be helped,
just another feature of a daily hell.
In this world, an old decree,
we’re all doomed to such degree,
beyond salvation,
without a nation.
In this world,
we are not who we are meant to be,
we die at the beginning,
we live at the end.
In this world,
the end’s the matter,
and no one cares about the means.
In this world, I cannot live.
For I’ve decided to end,
and I’ve refused to begin.
Hello, everyone.
I'm new around here and I'm already in love with this place.
Anyways, when I wrote this poem, it wasn’t out of clarity but out of weight. I felt the world pressing in from every side, too broken, too loud, too indifferent. The lines came almost on their own, like breaths I had been holding for too long. Some of them are shadows, some are sparks, but all of them are pieces of what I couldn’t keep silent anymore. (kind of rhymes)
I can all try to express with honesty how I felt in that moment: restless. Writing this was my way of surviving the unspeakable, of giving shape to the silence. If these words sound dark, it’s because sometimes the truth is dark, but even within that darkness, I believe a poem itself is proof of light.
