Currently, this poem does not have a title. Suggested ones are "Numb Heart" by a friend on the Books Amino smart phone application and "I Don't Understand" by me since that seems to be a reoccuring thing here. I do not particularly like that last one, and am unsure about the first, so any and all suggestions would be greatly appreciated! Just comment below or send me a message.
About the poem! I wrote it when I decided that I needed to write a poem. Yes, I can just decide that it is time to write a poem and then do so. I think that is a pretty amazing feat to have, personally. Sadly, it does not always work if it is on a topic I am not as familiar or comfortable with or it I am feeling rushed. Anway, here is the untitled poem from my despair.
I don't understand.
I don't understand.
I don't understand.
The words playing over and over.
Wracking my memory.
Tarnishing my soul.
Devouring my life.
I don't understand.
What life?
This life?
This thing of ceaseless torment.
I sit in a meadow;
Perfectly cut
Perfect green grass
Whispering in my ear that it's time to go.
Shhh little grass,
I like it here. It's quiet and nice.
Nothing is complicated.
It's nice.
My head is singing.
I don't understand.
Over and over and over and over
Until my ears run red
And my cheeks are pruned
And my hands vibrate like a massage gone wrong
I can't breathe.
I can't think.
The sun casts little shadows across the meadow.
It's funny how some things
Never change.
And then they do.
Red splashes through the air.
Slow.
I watch it move forward as it inches,
Crawls ahead
And finally lands.
I don't understand.
Why do I hurt so much?
Slowly I have been dissolving into
nothingness.
I can feel it.
I can feel it eating at me.
Eating me away.
Nothing left of me.
I don't understand.
It falls.
Stains.
Red staining green.
It's like Christmas.
I smile because Christmas is nice too.
But the red is not Christmas.
Red stains.
Ruins.
Ruining the perfect meadow.
I don't understand.
I don't understand.
I don't understand.
