They tell me I'm strong, that I can make it through anything because of the people around me.
I tell them they lie, that I'm not just strong,
but also weak.
I've stared into the abyss filled with wandering souls,
just searching for a way home, a way out of this.
My tears flow endlessly through the tirade of my
emotional collapse of lost love and my constant feeling of inadequacy.
Bad things happen, it's as simple as that.
I wish for happy endings, but I know that only I
can make them appear, make them real.
The clouds of smoke and tinkling of ice have faded
and yet I'm still here, a different and familiar place,
but utterly alone and begging for mercy.
I've lived in this world with no doors or rooms,
surrounded by cracked concrete and the hope of a way out.
This wasteland has swallowed me whole, chewing me until
all the flavor is gone until finally spitting me out.
I'm human again.
Strength is nothing more than a word until someone
gives it meaning.
My empathy helped someone recently and I felt whole
and not completely empty for the first time in a while.
I've lived my life hidden in the shadows of tears
and downward spirals of self destruction for the time
being and now it's time to live and breathe.
I've lost a lot recently, but it's making it through
the land of shadows that sometimes makes it worth living.
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no too sound too cheesy or whatever, I really am touched, I have gone through what you appear to be going through, I love it, not the situation, explanation, mind you, you tell it so well, strong emotion, firm conviction, pure determination, through all your frustration, you have had a long hard road it seems but it also seems that you have smoothed it out at least a little for the others behind you. Good job. Thank you
Michelle - This is just a wonderfully put together write, Like Gregory said there is some great imagery in this prose piece. This really hits home for me, always being told that you are the strong one, you will succeed, while everyone around you doesn't realize how much you wish you didn't have to be that person. Thank you for sharing.
Michelle - what superb imagery and excellent use of language in a prose/poetry combination. I was really drawn into the poem in all its emotional impact. I like the line "I've lived in this world with no doors or rooms, surrounded by cracked concrete..." I got this image seared into my mind. Another great line is, "I've stared into the abyss filled with wandering souls..." Phew - like peering into limbo! Great work.
I am unsure as to whether you intended this as a poem or a short essay. It is well written and very descriptive, but I find it decidedly a prose piece. It is most unclear as to what form you intended.
I gave my granddaughter an expensive present and she played with the box! Sometimes we base our worth on things that really don't make a difference. Because we don't have them only means we don't have them, not that we aren't worthy of their possession! Week is a term used wrongly very often! You write from a strong heart with a strong pen! Thank you, Anthony
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