So, I kind of started typing up notes for exactly how I want the plot to go before writing the last chapter, but then I just kept going and this appeared. It's sort of nonsense, but I figured I should show it to you as a sort of transition. Additionally, it may(if you look deep enough) allow some further insight for the next chapter. Anyway, this is pretty much a rough draft, and I doubt any of you will like it- my poetry has never been shared and I often spend much more time on it than this, so I don't have any outside opinions- but still, just in case...here's my word vomit composed in a poem-like format, for your enjoyment/cringe.
grief follows you like your shadow
clinging to your fingertips and clawing at your ankles;
slipping down your throat and choking y-o-u
with your mistakes and regrets and loathing
...
you are punished by and for
your triumphs and memories and love
they perceive enmity
in the light
to make themselves feel better about
their own mistakes and regrets and loathing
no matter your self-hatred
but here
in the darkness
we are unassuming
we will accept you and your monsters
we will ease the pain
and give you sweet relief through numbness
there is peace
...
where they would suck you dry of love, like a desert
or they would let you overflow, suffocate; drown
we will take what we must, and share when we must
we are your equilibrium
because
grief is all of the love you have packed into you
that you have been left unable to give
we are your outlet
...
I will accept your grief
I will take on your burden
I will give you wings to fly
detach
dark as the night sky, yet as brilliant as the stars
so relinquish your grief through love;
let me be your anchor
and your liberator
now
and for the rest of eternity
rest
here.
YOU ARE READING
Beating Hearts
БоевикPerseus Jackson. The name that sent chills down monsters spines, and that sparked hope in demigods everywhere. But beyond that, this name belongs to a boy. A man. A man who has seen so much, too much. Who has watched as his friends were killed, murd...