If there's anything I've learnt in these hurting times, it is how bruises crept into me, unawares, unannounced. Here I am one day, coping up famously, and the next minute I've collapsed within myself, in a paroxysm of uncontrolled depression. Without raising a thought, I'm hurt grievously. The world just doesn't understand. Nobody can see a hurt - hence I can't be.
Whilst, in the meantime, I am sinking, sinking, in a morass of undefinitions. There's no end to the depth, there's no recognizable sign of what drags me in, what is the nature of cl...
If there's anything I've learnt in these hurting times, it is how bruises crept into me, unawares, unannounced. Here I am one day, coping up famously, and the next minute I've collapsed within myself, in a paroxysm of uncontrolled depression. Without raising a thought, I'm hurt grievously. The world just doesn't understand. Nobody can see a hurt - hence I can't be.
Whilst, in the meantime, I am sinking, sinking, in a morass of undefinitions. There's no end to the depth, there's no recognizable sign of what drags me in, what is the nature of climate change that it is both a famine and a flood, where I'm empty and swollen, where I want to grasp whatever I can, as if it's the last straw of the world, and when unable to hold anything, I just let myself go. I rage and cut myself, and break glass, and hurl myself where there is empty space, I can visualize the worst and know it's the end of the world for me, I don't expect understanding, I don't expect help, I don't recognize help, I know my life to be in the hands of something without definitions, unloved, unappreciated, hung in the middle of nowhere where nobody visits, a place of abandonment, where only the rejects reside - me, me , me.
And I ask myself, why am I needed? What am I worth to anybody? Why is a life of value, why is anything of value? The flowers, the breeze, the insects, the eagles, the flies, are paraphernalia to create a world of falsehoods, where everything is marketed, and everything sold is instantly useless.
And I say why do I exist, why do I live, why am I here, what can I contribute, what do I matter. What do I matter? What do I matter?
And I tell myself goodbye. I'm not sure if I appreciate myself leaving myself alone. But that's the only place left to go.
If you liked this poem, consider listening to these other poems on loneliness and desolation -
- The Improbability of Wishes
- The Final Goodbye (or Why Lovers Decide to Die Together)
- Lost Atlas of Belonging
Follow me on Instagram at @sunilgivesup.
Get in touch with me on uncutpoetrynow@gmail.com
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The details of the music used in this episode are as follows -
Blockbuster Atmosphere 3 (Resolution) by Sascha Ende®
Link: https://filmmusic.io/song/130-blockbuster-atmosphere-3-resolution-
License: https://filmmusic.io/standard-license
Sometimes by Sascha Ende®
Link: https://filmmusic.io/song/142-sometimes
License: https://filmmusic.io/standard-license
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