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Posts Tagged ‘despair’

Sometimes I hear her breathing,
in my dreams,
only to realize,
it’s just her memory.
Held far away from me,
on a string too high to reach.
She dangles, suspended
and begs me, to end it
my pining tears her apart
until I realize,
she was never there from the start.
When I lay with her, beside her
just waiting
she dreamt of, his arms
protecting.
There’s no hope, never was,
and in the end
It’s me who, still has to
pretend .

ahhhh it’s been a while…I felt like posting this poem for some reason, I don’t know why. It was a strange and sudden urge. I just wrote it about 15 minutes ago. It was a strange experiece; I felt like maybe I was possessed for a few minutes by a guy writing down his feelings through me. This poem is in the perspective of a guy still depressed over his girlfriend, and in case you didn’t realize, I am a girl and am not interested in other girls like that, so this poem was something else for me. Not something that would happen to me, but I can still relate to his heartache. It’s a strange kind of empathy, if that makes any sense.

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I was too much of a dreamer, my aunt had always told me. My head was always up in the clouds somewhere and I had better come down quickly if I were to amount to anything.

Her fist came down hard on the kitchen table one morning at breakfast. “That’s it, girl. Your mother didn’t leave this world for you so you could lie around all day and stay in your little fantasy dream bubble.” she spat at me as I shoved a forkful of pancake into my mouth. I stared raptly at my plate as she spoke. “She was stabbed to death in the middle of a forest, trying to protect you. Did you know that, girl? Huh? Did you?”

I clutched my fork tightly in my hand and did all I could not to stab her in the face with it. “Yes, I did.” I hissed quietly. “And my name is not girl, auntie. It’s Angel. My name is Angel.”

My aunt gasped. “How dare you take that tone with me, girl? How dare you?” she bellowed furiously in her husky voice. “I take you in, I give you food, I put clothes on your back, and you have the AUDACITY TO TALK TO ME LIKE THAT?” she leaned forward over the table and was right up in my face. I flinched back and looked away. “You look at me when I talk to you, girl! You look at me!” she grabbed my chin with her fat little fingers and squeezed it hard as she turned my head to face her. Breathing heavily, she slapped me across the face. The pain cut through me as sharp as a scalpel and knocked me off my chair.

I took my face in my hands and started to cry, still lying on the floor. I could hear her above me.

“And after school I want to hear that you’ve done something. Volunteer get a job join a club I don’t care, just do something with your miserable life.” she muttered as she retreated into the living room.

I lay there for a few more minutes, waiting to hear the door open with a groan then quietly click shut, indicating that she had left for work at the restaurant. She was a waitress.

I snorted as I thought, well, it’s not like she amounted to much, either. But if I ever said that out loud I’d be decapitated and left out in the sun to boil and fester. If I ever raised my voice at her she’d stab me in the face, leave me for dead, then make me clean up my own blood.

I slowly pushed myself off the floor and hopped up the stairs to my closet of a room. I packed my books into my tattered backpack and swung it over my shoulders. I went into the bathroom and looked into the mirror. I was wearing a black dress, with a sweater overtop, and black and white stockings underneath. My long black wavy hair was a shock around my face because I looked paler than usual and had dark circles under my eyes.

I hadn’t slept very well the night before because my aunt had been telling me about how great my mother was and what a disappointment I turned out to be. I spent most of the night crying.

I stepped outside into the misty October morning and breathed in the scent of a cloudy day. The sky was an ominous gray and the wind felt pleasant as it blew on my face. I walked down the porch steps and up the sidewalk and away from the red brick house; with its chipped walls and the peeling paint, with the roof that was close to breaking in; and all its other splendours.

I stared up into the cloud covered sky and sighed; wishing life could just stay as peaceful as this moment all the time.

I rushed to my homeroom class because I was running late. The bell rang two seconds after I sat down in my seat and I breathed a sigh of relief. My homeroom teacher was a tyrant who was the male equivalent of my aunt. He also believed that I would amount to nothing.

“Alright class! Pop quiz on yesterday’s lesson.” he said, pulling a stack of papers out from inside his desk.

“What?” I whispered to myself. I let my head fall into my arms on my desk and let out a sigh. I didn’t understand a single thing we did yesterday, I thought.

It’s not as if I didn’t try. I always tried; always. But I was never good at anything. I just couldn’t wrap my head around anything.

He had our quizzes marked by the end of the class and he handed them back. I got 4 out of twenty.

He shook his head reprovingly as he handed me my quiz. “I’m going to have to call your aunt tonight, Angel. You have less than a sixty in this class right now, and half the semester has already gone.”

“But..but I can bring it up, I swear I can. I just have to get everything sorted out and I’ll be fine. You don’t need to bother my aunt with this, right, right?” I asked urgently.

He shook his head. “I think she should be aware of your current situation.” he said firmly and moved on to the next person.

I wanted to call him back. Wanted to tell him what an uproar this one little phone call would cause at my house. But I couldn’t. If I ever talked to him with even a little bit of defiance, he’d have me kicked out of this school.

I let my head fall into my arms again and groaned. I wanted to scream. I wanted to just scream my head off and not care about the repercussions of that liberating yet Earth-shattering scream. But I couldn’t. I knew I couldn’t.

I got home around seven; I spent my afternoon in the library, trying to put off coming home to a fuming aunt. But my pockets were empty and my stomach was grumbling…so…I had no choice.

“ANGEEEEEEEEEEEEL!” she roared as the door shut behind me with an almost inaudible click.

I tentatively stepped into the living room. She was sitting in her torn up recliner, glaring at me, her face twisted with rage. “You want to explain to me why you’re failing English class?” she yelled in a tone so full of rage it struck fear somewhere deep inside me.

I took a trembling step back. “I’m not…I’m not failing.” I muttered, looking at my shoes.

“I can’t hear you girl, SPEAK UP!” she bellowed, pushing roughly off of her chair and standing in front of me with her hands curled into fists.

I stared at those fists with the same fear that my mother must’ve stared at her murderer’s knife with.

My terrified gaze slowly went to her face and I took another trembling step back. “I’m sorry,” I said, my words coming out in a sob. “I’ll do better. I swear I will. Just please, please listen, I will I swear.” I sniffled and started to cry.

“That’s all you’re good for, isn’t it? Crying? It’s the only thing you know how to do!” she spat in my face and pushed me.

I hit the wall with a thud and fell to the floor. I quickly scrambled to my feet and ran for the door. I yanked it open and ran out as fast as I could.

On my way out I tripped over the porch steps. I fell over the five large concrete steps and crashed onto the stone pathway. From there I tumbled into unconsciousness…

I opened my eyes to find that the sky was blocked out by trees. Lush green trees that went on and on as far as the eye can see. The sun behind those trees made the dark green of the leaves glow with a mellow phosphorescence that made me think of hot summer days laying under the sun with a cool refreshing glass of lemonade that had the power to make you feel like if the world ended just then, with you melting under the sun and drinking an ice cold glass of lemonade, that would just be okay.

“Hey sweetie. What’s your name?” someone asked me.

I blinked twice and pushed myself onto my elbows. I was lying in a clearing in the middle of a forest. The thing that talked seemed to be a flower. Standing up on its roots, it was a glistening red flower that was smiling pleasantly at me.

“Angel. My name is Angel.”

The flower laughed. “No it isn’t.” It said with another chuckle. “Not anymore it isn’t.” Then suddenly the ruby red flower started to sprout thorns from its stem and the deep red boiled and shuddered until it turned black. “Not if I say it isn’t.”

I watched with my eyes wide open as it started to make its way toward me.

“And you’ll do what I say, won’t you, girl?” it asked me in a vicious tone. The middle of the flower opened with a terrible ripping sound, revealing long, sharp pointy teeth. “Answer me, girl!” it hissed as it came closer to me.

I started to back away from it, still on my elbows as I hitched in breath to let out a scream. But I couldn’t. Nothing came out of my mouth.

“What do you think you’re trying to do? You want to scream? Did I give you permission to scream? Huh, girl? Tell me, answer me!”

Tears rolled down my cheeks as the scream that was building up inside of me burned. I clutched my throat and started to cough. There was a terrible, bitter taste in my mouth, and then there was blood. There was a lot of blood, and it was all coming out of my mouth.

I was still clutching my throat as my shoulders heaved, and I coughed up some more blood. Then I started to sob. I was sobbing, then coughing. Sobbing, coughing. Sobbing…blood…coughing…the edges of my vision were going black. I looked around me for someone…for something even, to maybe help me, but there was nothing. Even the mutated flower had disappeared. And then, finally, just as the bloody grass was fading into a dull gray, and the lush green trees around me were starting to disappear, the scream that was burning my throat shot out of me like a rocket launch. It was so loud and so raw that it burned my throat even more and I could feel my whole body just going numb because it was in so much pain, but, I didn’t care. I wanted to scream. I needed to scream. That’s all I had ever wanted, that’s all I had ever needed…and as my scream started to die out, I closed my eyes. I was lying on the grass now, in my own blood. There was so much I was almost swimming in it.

But still I smiled. Because I was free. I had been set free. I smiled through my pain; I smiled still as haziness took over my mind…as I slowly drifted into the unknown…as the pain slowly subsided and I felt nothing. I saw nothing. I heard nothing. There was nothing else in the world but me.

And then there was a hand. A hand that was covered in blood. It was reaching out for me. My mind struggled to understand what was going on, and then it did. I had to take it; all I had to do was take the hand. The bloody hand. And so I did. I reached out also, and the bloody hand gripped my hand with a reassuring firmness. Together at last.

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Don’t look at me imploringly,

you know that I can’t help.

Nothing is going to stop it,

not your screams or your yelps.

It’s a force beyond my control,

a knowledge that surpasses my own.

It’s a power that I cannot fathom,

a path I have yet not been shown.

You have the right to begrudge me,

because I know what I said before.

I said that I’d always make it better,

but now you’re writhing on the floor.

I wish that I was almighty,

so I could clear up all of your pain.

And you would never have to leave me,

our struggle would not go in vain.

This time it’s beyond my control,

this time it’s out of my hands.

This time it just might be fatal,

hope might be my only chance.

Your breathing is speeding up,

sending shivers through my soul.

Everything is crashing,

our dreams and all our goals.

As your chest heaves up and down,

your eyes wild with fright.

You grab my hand in desperation,

and I scream out into the night.

You’re falling deeper and deeper,

I pull but there’s no luck.

I weep as I watch you leave me,

I sob as death swallows you up.

The Swallows engulf you and destroy you. That’s what they do. They pull you in and crush your soul. They crush your body. They crush your mind. Beware the Swallows.

Man I have no idea what ‘the Swallows’ mean, but it just seems to fit. So once again, *cue scary music* beware the Swallows…

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The hands of darkness,

are pulling you down,

they clutch at your throat,

turn smiles into frowns.

The cold icy roads,

that they make you travel,

leave you breathless and weary,

and unable to fathom,

anything around you,

your mind it goes blank,

you reach out for something,

but come up with nothing in your hands.

Blood splatters your face,

as it kills all your dreams.

You plug up the hole,

but it bursts at the seams.

You cry out in pain,

and then you retreat;

you hide in terror,

as it claws at your feet.

You dig deeper and deeper,

trying to escape;

but you can’t outrun it,

for it softly brushes the nape,

of your neck and then you fall,

unable to resist.

You tried your best to fight it,

but it became your every wish.

This is a little poem I wrote about fear. When I was thinking about what this poem could possibly mean to me, I realized that I usually end up letting my fears take me over and I let them control my life. So this poem is about how fear can overtake your world and knock you down, no matter how hard you try to fight it. There’s no happy ending to this poem, and the reason is that sometimes you can’t do anything about fear. I guess sometimes you have to let it control you for a little while, because that’s the only way you can get over it. You need to live through it to realize that maybe it’s not so bad. But some people realize that last part a bit too late, and those people have come in and gone from my life many times, and I wish I could’ve told them something encouraging that would’ve helped them in their struggle. But *sigh* there are just some hopeless times where there is absolutely nothing to do about your predicament. Some people have interpreted this poem to be about temptations. And I completely agree with them, it definitely could be a poem about temptations. Poetry is all about interpretation, right? So please if you have any thoughts about fear or struggling with fear or temptations or just anything to say about this poem then feel free to leave a comment to share your thoughts.

P.S. I just thought I’d mention this since I’m really into Jonathon8 right now (www.musingsofahighschoolvampire.wordpress.com), you (Jonathon) are definitely not one of the things I’m afraid of! I’m not scared of you man! (please) Come and get me! I dare you!

P.P.S. I’m just really bad at naming my poems, the title “Chasing Terrors”, I just made it up on the spot when I was posting this. If you have a better title for this poem, then please mention it!

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