Brittle, beaten, battered, bruised, bitter, bent-
the woods sucked its teeth into me again.
those same roots wrap around my windpipe
compressing out every ounce of fragile life
I miraculously retained through this ordeal.
there's nothing left for the woods to steal.
beyond hopeless, surrendering all direction;
aimlessly stumbling through alien infestation.
A lifeless tree would be a mercy at this point.
paths randomly chosen with the flip of a coin.
I've given up on the hope of seeing sunshine,
right now death seems utterly, entirely sublime.
I let the rivers carry me until I crash into the rocks,
barely audible is the whispers of tell-tales and mock.
if that doesn't kill me, I let the water consume my lungs;
I'm so tired of trying to untangle the tall trees' tongues.
The darkness can engulf me, I oblige eagerly -
maybe there, somehow, I'll find serenity.
let the fire burn me until it drowns out my screams,
nothingness, oblivion, vastness has become my dreams.
Sinking sands can suffocate me slowly,
it wouldn't be a bother in all honesty.
wolves feast upon my lifeless corpse,
the remainder; a shell recognisably morphed
Thorns and rocks shatter my soul and being
until there's absolutely nothing to believe in.
the woods devour every fibre of what I am - was;
I lie there lifelessly covered every inch by moss.
At the bottom I am trapped under a frozen lake,
there's absolutely nothing left for the woods to take;
so it finally sets me free, dumping me on the outskirts,
knowing that now I'll never be able to rise from the dirt.
YOU ARE READING
A Series Of Events
PoetryI've found that I am most comfortable in discomfort and chaos, as opposed to serenity and happiness; probably because this broken part of me is all I've ever known. love, turmoil, desperation, infatuation, betrayal, death. these poems will contain...
