𝑱𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝑷𝒐𝒆𝒕𝒓𝒚| 𝑷𝒐𝒆𝒕𝒓𝒚 [𝑶𝒏-𝑮𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒈]

Part 52: An Empath

There's an emptiness in me that I can't explain,
Life around me radiates nothing but pain.
I can hear loud sobs that intoxicate me,
I can hear the shrill sound of sirens,
I can see people gasping for one last breath,
I can see knuckles whitening as wives hold onto their husbands' stretchers,
I can feel the silent crawl of death.

I scream out of agony into the void,
But I hear no whisper, no words of comfort,
All I can hear are voices that are always paranoid.
A whirlpool of thoughts confine my mind,
Insanity captivates me as my vision painfully blurs,
For a moment, I feel like I'll go blind
And the next moment, I gasp for breath,
Almost feel the silent crawl of death.

But I survive.
I wake up on my cold bed,
In the warmth of loneliness.
I can hear death whisper to me, "your turn shall come..your turn shall come".
I can hear the voices in my mind wake up,
I can hear my dark house whisper,
"Your time shall come..your time shall come",
And once again, I feel the silent crawl of death.

I whine, I pray but I pray to die,
I pray to be pulled into the chasm of nothingness,
I pray to escape-
But then I feel the voices grow silent.
I hear no voice around me,
Anxiety crawls through my veins,
Clasps around my throat.
I feel a tug at my hair,
I feel stuck in a ferris wheel of despair,
Perhaps, my time has come.
My chapped, bloody lips curl at the sides,
At last.

I gasp for freedom,
I was about to wish the world a last goodbye-
When I hear another sob,
I hear someone cry out, "He died. My child died."
I hear a poet type on his typewriter while crying,
I hear the constant flood of notifications,
Urging me to join classes.
I smell the burning ashes,
I feel what everyone feels, except mine.

I scream again and again,
I beg, I plead, "Take me away",
As I hear a loud, exasperating laughter,
And once again, I feel the silent crawl of death whisper,
"One little girl,
Always in grave despair,
Hearing what none hears,
Feeling what none feels.
One little girl,
Waiting for her death
But oh does she know?
She's an immortal soul."

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

A/N: yes, i am alive. wrote this a few months back because i had a lot in my head and needed to pour it out. what is poetry if not a maze of overwhelming emotions? what is poetry if not an escape for thoughts that choke us to death? poetry is like my journal and i can't write when i don't feel but i wrote this when i barely felt anything yet had a lot in my head. ridiculous, isn't it? if you're here and read all this crap, thank you for being so patient and supportive. i adore each one of you. i hope y'all have the best day because trust me, y'all deserve to have the best day everyday.