"Sober"- Pink
Reason I picked that song, is because I only listened to that while reading "13 Reasons Why" (by Jay Asher). Amazing book. Read it in only two days, and it had me petrified.
In fact, this poem is inspired by that novel. The whole time I wrote this, I was only thinking of that book.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
An abyss of endless demons
That laugh
And stroke your hair,
Yelling in your ear,
Loud enough for you to hear.
Pulsating your mind with
Mockery
As you lay in bed,
Crying,
From all this
Monstrosity.
Yelling in your ear,
Loud enough for you to hear,
Their soothing voice
Of long, everlasting nails
Upon the chalkboard,
Slowly
Screeching,
With the metallic blood laughter that reassure you saying:
"It'll all be fine.
Forget about tomorrow
And until the end of time,
I'll stay with you,
As the uninvited guest,
Dancing,
Prancing,
Around your
Weak,
Petty
Sorrow."
People have the audacity to throw their
Weak,
Petty,
Affection
In the face of the fragile
And even call it an attempt.
When they walk through the halls
And through the streets
And in their own homes
And can't even sleep,
Remembering the plethora of comments
Coming from the outside world
Only to haunt back at night
To this
Weak,
Petty,
Little girl.
Ah, but they didn't just remain comments.
They soon turned into words
That forever embed itself
Into the lines-
Endless,
Endless,
Lines
Along the
Weak
Petty
Little girl's mind.
No.
This is not an overreaction.
Now tell me
How can you form an adaption
To the wretched and horrible fire
That burns along the skin
From different temperatures,
Different angles,
From different sources
That flame along different points
To only weaken the inferior.
Ah, you honestly believed it was an adaption
When, a matter of fact,
Your thrashes
Only turned into menacing torture
To only malfunction this poor girl's mind
And when she's had the last straw,
Her mind crashes,
And all those scars and burns, wear away
And finally, she's had enough.
She's now become the
Weak,
Petty
Breeze of ashes.
But she carries along.
You've made this breeze of ashes
Turn into nothing,
And so nothing has nothing to be kicked or teased upon,
Because she is nothing.
So do not fear,
She'll lay in bed
With demons,
Loud and clear,
Forever being the only ones to reassure her.
Do not worry,
It does not matter,
Do not hurry
In taking the latter.
Forever will she be the nothing you've made her become.
Because in the end,
Burns turn into ashes.
Give it a while,
She'll freak out,
Forget how to smile,
And forever be the shadow of
Petty
and
Weak.
YOU ARE READING
Pain Reliever
De Todo"Me? Well, I'm well. Well, I mean I'm in hell. Well, I still have my health- At least that's what they tell me If wellness is this, what in hell's name is sickness?"