I speak of no hunger or yearning
I only write it and live it and breathe it
I keep it close, silent in my pocket
But it yells and screams and only I can hear it.
It returns and haunts me when I don't listen.
My pain makes sure I don't forget it.
But how could I when it seems like it's that all I can feel?
I live numbly and empty until it returns
And then I try to smother it and kill it.
That's how I know how alive it is.
I live numbly and empty until it returns
And then I try to smother it and kill it.
That's how I know how alive it is.
this passage and the message it gives is fantastic. You describe yourself as empty without the pain, and how you see just how much apart of your life it is when you try to kill it.
I live numbly and empty until it returns
And then I try to smother it and kill it.
That's how I know how alive it is.
this passage and the message it gives is fantastic. You describe yourself as empty without the pain, and how you see just how much apart of your life it is when you try to kill it.
I like this poem. It's short, but... I guess it tells your current story fairly well. I enjoyed reading it, so now I'm going to go and read a few more pieces of your writing. :-)
life is pain. a lot of the time anyhow. all about finding that happy medium. then again we write from the depths of despair and it's usually the best so damn hard shti. i like this piece though, bleeding honesty is my fav. woo!
Submission Name: Pain is...life
