I was faced with demons—
the ones that truly broke my core.
In an abyss of despair,
I was lost.
Rubbed failure between my hands,
spoke of disappointment with my mouth,
saw grief on my own eyes,
breathe doubt into my lungs.
I was a caged soul—
who waited for the day I would be set free—
for someone to cast a light into my dark mind,
to see glimpses of possibility.
I was never alone, however—
because she believed in me.
More humble, yet more keen.
Less certain, yet more real.
She is me.
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Poesis
Non-FictionPoetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion; it is not the expression of personality, but an escape from personality. But, of course, only those who have personality and emotions know what it means to want to escape from the...
