Forlorn days
Forlorn days fill the box in which I lie
They come as swiftly as they left before
Death is all that fills my mind
To die, to say goodbye, to have lived in vain
Death
But I don't want to die, is the problem
Death comes to my mind again
Death, filling every gap between thought and thought
Between rationality, right from my subconscious
And as forlorn days come so quickly that the happy days seem like flies, passing by, I forget what happiness felt like and believe for a moment that I was always under this painful pressure that springs forth from my subconscious as if my brain were meant to be a fountain of melancholy.
Then I remember I was happy once.
Death fills the next gap after the thought, as it always does.
Forlorn days come as swiftly as they left before
I stay in the box
The shadows hug my ribs with their knives
I forget again and believe that this is all that exists
If only for a moment I'd remember, then I do remember joy
Days old, now dead
Dead as I may be, as I can be, as I will be, as my subconscious seems to want to be
Is this all there is to life?
No, the moment will pass
I will sleep. Sleep.
Eternal sleep.
No, I will wake up and I will feel better
The eternal sleep of death calls my name
Like the whisper of the wind
Leaves rustling
Insects calling
Foreseeing rain
Foreseeing death
This is not a casual poem but something from my essence, from my day-to-day. It seems casual to me now because it's as common as drinking water when I'm thirsty. When I'm sleepy or bored, when I'm sad or anxious or stressed, when I'm tired of working or afraid of something, these thoughts recur.
I don't know why I think of death. I'm not suicidal, but any psychoanalist who digged into my subconsciousness would believe that I am to a certain extent, since so much space in my trains of thought is dedicated to the possibility of dying in order to escape the pains of life.
I think I associate death more with the wind than with deadly animals or wounds. I see death not as the cruel thing that it physically is but as the coming and going of the wind. Life is like a leaf: there one moment, then whoosh...
you are so honest, and that is what makes you a beautiful writer.
I got chills from reading this. I think at some point we all feel this way, it is the unfortunate result of being human and living hardships
<3
I kind of resent the feeling since I'm a bit numb and really can't ever feel happiness anymore. :(
Thank you :) I hoped that it would look good even though it's mundane to me. I'm glad it worked.
it worked, believe me. don't discredit yourself cryptosharon - you're writing is beautiful and i think you just need to turn the switch on to start feeling again. you have such beautiful words. imagine the feeling of them, tangibly. i feel a little too much is my problem, maybe thats why we get along - we balance each other out <3
Aaaaaaaaah, where :(
Just amazing
:) Thank you.
Great Post & Poem!
Steem on :)
Choo choo
Thank you :)
but I don't want to die!
this is amazing
I'm glad you liked my poem, diya.
Man is mortal but nobody wants to die. It's universal truth that we have to die one-day. Try to survive ourselves by many ways.
Indeed. It's still sad.
I know it's sad. But what can we do?
Well, we can try and look around and admire the landscape while the boat leads us to the cascade. And we might as well enjoy the fall before the impact breaks our necks.
Miedo a la muete para nada. Pero .... viviendo pienso en ella y me doy cuenta de que en la vida solo estoy de paso. De paso como la tormenta que alborota el escenario y luego deja la calma.
Y la cama sin tender.
I like the style of your poetry to take a inspiration from day by day. Thanks for sharing this topic.
By the way, I upvote and followed you. If you want, please give my poetry feedback. Thanks @cryptosharon
The Connection Of Heart
https://steemit.com/poetry/@anggreklestari/bilingual-poetry-the-connection-of-heart-day-4-100-days-of-poetry-challenge
Your poem touches an interesting topic, but sadly, perhaps due to your lack of fluency in English, it doesn't flow. It feels as if you were just complaining to your fiancé with a loud voice about why they should just keep their phone in their pocket while you talk.
I'm very appreciate to your advice. Thanks for your read my poetry. Nice to meet you in Steemit. :)
john donne would be really happy because he loves these types of poetry
Well, I wish he were alive to read this then :) I'll show it to him in the afterlife.