Poems of Pain and Solitude

untitled part i cannot name

Dear You,

I don't know what I am anymore.

The things that defined me

Slipped away from my grasp.

You ask me who I want to be later

But is there really a choice to consider?

I'm trying to hold on.

I'm trying to believe.

But I'm looking back at everything that's gone.

I'm thinking I'll never see relief

And that maybe I was meant to live in the dark,

And that maybe my aches are meant to leave a mark.

It's not pain. It's a chasm, gaping emptiness,

A hole that opens wider, between surreptitious pleas.

I can't feel my own heartbeat anymore,

I don't even know what I wish for,

Though I'm on my knees

Because my life isn't mine to implore.

I really thought I was doing okay.

I thought the days were never to be gray

Again, but I've lost all my friends

They think I'm insane and they might be right.

I can't stand upright, I'm on the brink of

Jumping, but instead I sink.

I really thought everything was going to be okay.

It's what they said,

But my blood continues to bleed red,

I can never get out of bed,

I can't get every thought out of my head,

And I can't convince myself that I'm not dead.

It's a game of who lives the longest,

Not who spares most blood,

And I am barely a survivor.

I'm more than corpse, I am ghost.

Trying to see past all the liars,

In a vain quest to find what matters most.

Tell me now, what matters the most?

I want to take care of myself,

But you never made it easy for me.

Are we all on our lonely paths,

While you throw rocks on the way

So we're lost and can't find the direction?

Everything is meant to happen.

Everything is going as it should be.

But at the same time, nothing is certain,

And they said we're never free.

Is it possible to be truly happy

If sadness has been tattooed in your bones?

I can't find a purpose and everything

Has made me believe that my heartbeats are worthless.

I can't help the world,

All I do is ink pain in lonely words,

And the world can't help me

From the pain that I write in my poetry.

There is no oracle,

There is no miracle.

There is merely life

And what goes along with it.

There are those that choose to live

Versus those that are afraid to die.

What is the final goal?

Will I ever feel whole?

If I look up to the sky and plead

Will that be enough to know

How to stop reeling, how to start feeling,

How to know if I'm actually real?

I seem to know a hundred places

But none of them feel like home.

I've seen a thousand faces

And they've all left me alone.

I'm so tired of running, and you still

Haven't even told me where I'm heading.

I really thought that the wounds had healed.

But instead my nemesis and its familiar company

Came back to me, arms wide in venom touch.

I drew every sword and took out every shield

Fending for my dying soul against pain's tyranny

But there was no longer a soul of such.

Victory was my worst tragedy

Who said the trophies were not my poison?

Poetry was the one that set me free

But who said that the pen wasn't also my prison?

To my every story,

Who said the hero could not be villain?

I was at my worst,

I took it all away to fight for this curse.

I gave this my best,

I sacrificed every beat in my chest.

But I don't know why anymore

And I don't know what all of this is for.

I don't know if I'm enough.

I don't know who I am, who I'll become.

Expectations crush my featherly weight,

And past remarks are indelible to my deepest hurt.

If I'll end up buried in dirt,

Could you tell me what's the point of birth?

Anonymous.