You said it was my choice,
but I panicked, lost my voice.
Couldn't think, anxiety arose.
When it mattered, I freaking froze.
I stood there, tears flowing,
didn't care my demons were showing.
Pretty red roses and sorrowful tears
on your grave. All because of my fears.
~~Poet's Note ~~
To be honest this poem is long overdue. I wrote that at the beginning of the year after going through some things.
I write most of my poems as a peek into someone's life, many times I declare her a "she" for some reason... And that's the time when she lost someone because she couldn't handle the pressure of making a choice.
YOU ARE READING
Before The Light
PoetryPain... I'm pretty sure no one likes to talk about that. Compared to those who have been abused or those who are facing racism, sexism or such, my pain is absolutely nothing. But it does hurt. Poetry is an outlet for my feelings. Paper does have mo...
