THE SURVIVOR
I woke up from a never-ending dream
Closed my eyes at the nineteenth
It all felt so surreal
I sensed their judging eyes piercing through my face
A familiar voice, a soothing touch
Carrying me with their love
I have lost it all in that moment
When I knew I failed at it again
I felt no relief
But I dire need to repeat
Where would I go now? How would I live?
I ask myself as I go down this hallway of critics
Why would you do this? What are you after?
Honey, I’m a walking travesty
A poet, a filler, a soft boy with no picker
I am a storm of chaos and calamity
I’m reckless, impulsive with no fear in my eyes
Living everyday a life full of lies
My intuition tells me now you’re afraid
Worry not my friend, I’m taking the help
Seems like a drag but I have some helping hands
Pulling me through the depths of my own hell
Believe me or not
This one has no hope
He runs with a sheer belief of walking all alone
No regrets, no wish to change
Now all that remains is the memories
That’s all he has left
Of the dying, loving, and caring he left
Before he lost it all
And became undead.
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Want to try your hand at poetry? Email me at poeticiapoems@gmail.com
Featured image credits to IgorKocka on Pixabay
