It's dark down here, dark and cold.
The light above is merely a pinprick,
I try to climb towards it but I cannot find a hold.
The days merge and the time sticks.
I become comfortable here in my misery,
No longer having the will to try.
The light is but a cruel trickery,
One that will never allow me to fly.
Then out of the dark, there is a sound.
Fleeting and scarcely there at all;
I listen hard to see if it can be once again found,
My last hope before I fall.
After an eternity it comes again,
It is clearer now; a comforting voice.
The words so beautiful yet they burn pain.
As they burn they offer me a choice;
To die cold and alone here in my hole,
Or attempt the climb once more to save my soul.
YOU ARE READING
Behind the Silence
PoetryPoetry portraying the things I never say, the pain of depression and other unspoken shadows in my mind. Writing is my way of exploring and coping with a lot of internal issues and I like the way poetry is able to paint pictures of emotion.
