TW: Depression, Suicidal ideation, Mental health struggles, Dark themes, Emotional pain, Hopelessness
(Inquire of thy comrades, o cherished seeker, Lest fleeting moments slip, like sand through fingers. Ere the ink of farewell upon paper doth dance, Or footsteps falter, off the precipice's trance.)
Of dreams and future's call,
Yet I bear a silent burden,
Heavy as a pall.
They ask of my tomorrow,
Their eyes alight with cheer,
But my path is shadowed,
My end is drawing near.
Plans are etched in granite,
Dark, plain, without gain,
A countdown to an end,
Where hope cannot remain.
The questions that they ask me,
Cut just like a knife,
For I've plotted my departure,
The finale of my life.
I dread to see their faces,
The smiles I can't sustain,
For the truth I hold within me,
Is wrapped in quiet pain.
They talk of grand ambitions,
Of places they have been,
While I stand at the crossroads,
Haunted by what's unseen.
Their laughter feels like echoes,
In a world I'll never know,
A place beyond my reach,
Where dreams don't dare to go.
The future that they cherish,
Is a distant, foreign land,
For I am bound by shadows,
And an unforgiving hand.
Their hope, a fleeting whisper,
Their joy, a fleeting dream,
In the silence of my heart,
Nothing is as it seems.
Their visions are like mirages,
In a desert, dry and cold,
While my reality is written,
In stories never told.
So I weave my silent tale,
With threads of dark and light,
A tapestry of sorrow,
Woven in the night.
They speak of paths untraveled,
Of stars that brightly gleam,
But my journey halts abruptly;
I won't see past seventeen.
YOU ARE READING
Echoes of the Unspoken
PoetryHere lies a collection of poems, scattered like leaves, shared in the hope that someone might find solace and know they are not alone in their turmoil. Beware, for these poems are not for the faint of heart; they arise from the darkest recesses of m...
