Author: A.

You should know better than to look for hints
In this large pile of unpublished poetry
Assuming I left pieces of myself laying out so carelessly
But there’s no hidden messages in these black and white prints.

I cried out in pain
Spoke words of affirmation
Yet rewarded with constant frustration
There’s only so much one can entertain.

All that I was, I presented to you
My thoughts and beliefs
Highest points and moments of grief
All of which, you knew.

But here we are…

You rummage through my archive of dark ensemble
As if maybe, just maybe I don’t have enough brain capacity
To prevent strangers and enemies from deciphering my reality
While I sit back and watch my whole life crumble.

Love,

A

X.

Imagine a place
Where ignorance rises and morals fall
Reality slowly being redefined
As a shoulder to cry on becomes a chest to sleep on
It’s hard to accept it but,
Nobody has it all.

With each confrontation evolving
Relationships are constantly transforming
Blame it on circumstance, fate
It’s these suppressed characters,
Only now resurfacing 
Or better still, blame it on the alcohol.

In this alternate universe
It seems right to flee, run, vamoose
The mind is willing but these legs just won’t move
Maybe it’s the weed, rum or grey goose
Hard as it may be,
It’s time to stand tall.

Stuck intricately analysing every decision
Intensely retracing each wayward step
Irreversibly short sighted as a result of poor vision
It’s a constant cycle
But there’s light at the end of this tunnel
And the only way out is to crawl.

This world is cursed
Densely populated with ignorance and feeble minds
It’s these petrified demons
Unintelligently claiming to follow protocol
As these series of unfortunate events have now fully unfolded
I think it’s time for that curtain call.

Love,
A
X

In my darkest times and during my deepest struggles,

I choose poetry.

When poverty strikes and hunger makes my belly rumble,

I choose poetry.

Come rain, come sunshine

Both in my happiest moments and when I need to mask misery in a bottle of red wine,

I still choose poetry.

Because,

On the days that I let the devil feed me lies,

And I prayed for quicker ways to die,

It was only in poetry that I found the courage to write myself back to life.

Love,
A
x