Author's note: This poem was meant to be about grief and mental illness, but the patient derailed the poem, oh well.
Anyway, check out Sonenclaire! She is a tremendously gifted author that just is amazing at writing plot, description, characters, and pulling out your heartstrings with her stories featuring an accurate portrayal of both mental illness and grief.
_________________________________________________
Pieces strewn across the floor,
an older man at the door.
'Leave me alone', I call out
'Everyone thinks I'm a lout'
He points to the sky
and promises I'll soon fly.
'Humans can't do that,
they'll just splat'.
'What if we dream up a world
where your doubts are furled?
Restore life to the way it once was
if you but follow our cause'.
I don't hesitate,
my tears soon abate.
'Let the games begin',
I reply with a Cheshire grin.
__________________________________________
Vocab:
Lout-awkward stupid person (usually used for males or boys)
furled- neatly or securely rolled up
abate- to decrease in intensity
Author's note: This song was influenced by various songs I'm listening to right now, but was written with a specific theme in mind-grief and the various ways it is channeled.(In this case...well you can guess it might not be the right way.)
And yes, a certain character did inspire it. (Why does that character keep inspiring things? Idk.)
YOU ARE READING
My Poetry Journal
PuisiPoems and other tidbits of thought. Enough said. Cover accredited to Oceane_Breeze!
