Here it comes, the realisation of life & all it’s vunerability. I’m swimming in it, I can taste it on the tip of my tongue but I havn’t drowned yet. The current is running fast now, taking me with it. But it hasn’t clicked in my head just yet that I should steady myself in the waves. The thought is there to stay on the look out for that floating log to latch myself onto safely, introducing control & direction to the unknown. But I repeatedly convince myself that the water is warm & safe. I let myself be pushed along by this unstoppable force; no destination, no purpose. Naïvly challenging the current of life. Being the foolish teenager that I am; always believing myself, my body & mind invincible to all obstacles that are constantly thrown my way.
Of course there is worry, there is pain & there are those moments of abandonment when I let myself go numb & motionless. Being dragged around against my will as I gasp for air. Everything suddenly feels heavy, everything is sinking slowly; that’s when fear kicks in & control feels lost. But just hold on & keep your head out of water. I feel the urge to gain control back, & here I go again fighting against the current, challenging it. This false control.
Fighting is only going to exhaust & weaken me. True control is realising that time cannot be stopped & some things cannot be changed no matter how much you fight it. Control is grabbing that log when it floats by & holding on. Control is being stable in the strong current; adapting to it, living with it & not against it.
My brain is floating on a pillow. A nice & fluffly white pillow of joy, engulfing my organ with tender care & love. Navigating in a cloud of fog. Not a silent, smooth & peacefull fog; it’s a thick & intoxicating one. Just like in the cities fueled by pollution.
It’s a mess, it’s lost, everything is sick & twisted now. The pinky health turning black; like pulling a rabbit out of a hat, the magiv unfolds itself. Shapes & colors dancing like a mathematical equasion; it won’t add up. « Goodbye » is what is said to that once innocent girl.
Promise of a Broken Puppet
Neutral to the fact that life just passes by,
Passionate love being my greatest sin.
Screams of voices convince the broken child:
“Feelings are so dangerous,
People, nothing but contagious,
It isn’t worth the effort dear”,
she whispers softly in her ear.
It plays again, it always does,
The puppet show has just begun.
Past traumatizing memories,
leave tares & wounds that never heal.
This little girl, she hides her shame,
in search of some form of approval.
Soul trapped, black walls tighten the vice,
pinned down inside, the ropes go slice,
strengthening their grip on innocence.
Pitiless silence fuels my doubts,
Despite this weakness, hear my shouts:
“Mistress, mistress! Set me free,
I’m bleeding, pleading, can’t you see?”
Desperation meets insanity,
perfected suicidal remedy.
The virus of her mind in rage,
How dare the villain take the stage?
A mental beating well deserved,
now pull the strings teaching the act,
satisfy my craving to fill the void,
with self-destructive therapy.
Prisoner of the guilty mind,
when did health become a crime?
internal war of life or death,
with every win dragging a loss.
Being the main envy of the show,
But the only one who’s dying slow.
Poor, poor little girl so frail,
She only ever wanted to be enough.
Now she’s the puppet,
prisoner of this deadly promise.
by: EmiiBee (me)
Oui c’es ten anglais alors désoler si c’est un invonvénient! J’écris beaucoup mieux en anglais, et c’est beaucoup plus facile pour mes idées de sortirent. Ce poème que j’ai écris durant mon temps libre à été inspirer d’un rêve que j’ai souvent depuis ma jeunesse.
It’s white as snow, an eery glow,
painting itself above my eyes,
an epidemic in my mind.
It feels so fake, no lives at stake,
It’s bitten off down to the core,
I see the seeds, they’re bleeding out,
so naked, exposed, a victim of mockery.
The bed it bends, a metal blade,
there is no cloud to lay asleep.
Murderous cold, it burns my skin,
it’s black, on fire, & ashes fly,
the stench of burning souls emerges.
Eyes roll back in agony,
the milky way of bloodshot eyes,
they mask the shards of a broken mind.
The walls they melt, suffocating my voice,
I’m running fast but moving slow,
no exit sign to free the demons.
I see your face, oh so divine,
it sparkles in a blur of confusion.
Your hand I wish to hold,
the gravity weighing us down low,
This controlling power binds us apart,
the wind blows us our separate ways.
It disappears, the sky goes black,
silky smooth warmth caresses my inside,
I’ve lost myself in this broken record.
There is a flash, a bang, a boom,
the sky goes bright, the flowers bloom.
The tree grows high & disappears,
so many familiar faces floating around,
the children play without a threat.
The leaves like smoky mists of grass,
they twinkle in heaven’s sunshine,
lies carved in this perfect image,
uneasiness itches under the bark.
Spinning round & round, the ground evolves,
Her hand of death touches my back,
I feel the pressure stealing my breath,
inside my veins, my nerves, my bones.
My teeth are clenched, my head is low.
Disappointment is tickling at my stomach,
turning it hollow & weak with cramps.
« say goodbye to all your friends,
you won’t be seeing them again »
is what she said with a small grin,
such a joyful, cheerful face, with evil intentions rising up.
My blood flows like burning ink,
painting scars on natures gift.
The volcano erupts inside my heart,
leaking out my arteries.
It all goes silent, am I gone?
The drops of bubbling flesh fall down,
A stare shines out, intense with passion,
watching them fade, their faces turning grey.
The fountain flows, it drips at first,
& then it drowns my thoughts so numb,
down my cheeks soaked with fear.
Time has stopped, vanished, dust in the wind.
I reach out, try to grasp the air,
this precious moment on my palm.
Everything now cold & dry,
all freezes solid, sealing shut.
Alone again like chapter one,
the vicious cycle still goes on.
Écrit par (written by):