|Cuddling In Depression
Author: BrightFuzzySocks PM
Some poems I've written. Mostly sad. If you read on a good day there might be a sappy or happy one ;)Rated: Fiction K - English - Poetry/Hurt/Comfort - Chapters: 3 - Words: 785 - Updated: 01-28-13 - Published: 01-26-13 - Status: Complete - id: 3095609
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So um this is just a poem I wrote. Was in a really dark place when I wrote it. This poem is about escaping as you can probably see from the title. Well now I'm just rambling. Please comment anything you have to say.
The Wrong Escapes
The pestering sun gleams through the window,
Sharp bright rays decorate the room,
People declare love for warm days and sweaty nights,
I yearn for gloomy skies and heavy rain,
Or even just a shadow for me to escape.
Happy people all around,
Smiles flash around like careless cameras
Laughter is to be heard everywhere,
Bubbling like champagne.
It isn't infectious.
People ask what's wrong,
I shake my head and smile
With strained lips, narrowed eyes
It is not genuine.
But it helps me fit in.
Music is my savior,
The thumping of smirking drums,
Strums of grinning guitars,
Notes of patient pianos,
They make me lose myself.
Lyrics written by rhythmic Einsteins,
I can dream all I want.
Reality is gone,
Daydreams and fantasies take place
Just by putting my earphones on.
Old spines, wrinkled paper
A story based on illusion
It does not matter how old it is,
In any book you can change,
It's a chance to ponder the thought of a different kind
To escape to a world unlike science,
Princesses, warriors, lost lovers and even wizards
Oceans, palaces or even deserts filled with lizards
Imagination has no limit,
For non-fiction to kill it
But when the song soon finishes its melody,
And protagonist ends its mission
I am forced to exile the depths of my mind.
Music and books can only bring so much peace
Before the truth reappears.
Stabs of pain and rejection fill your veins,
Every day is a struggle,
Every day is a mountain to climb,
As I try to find happiness,
A way out of my misery and disappointment
Swift and smooth
The cold sharp knife punctures at your wrist
It's all I have left to do
I feel blood prickling down.
But it feels good
My anger and frustration are released
I feel high like I'm floating on a cloud,
But it's wrong.
Yeah so that's the end of it. I know it's a bit long but I couldn't just stop writing. :P So if you could, please review. Critisim would be greatly appreciated. Doesn't matter if you think I suck and should never pick up a pen or a notebook again. Please comment and give me feedback.
Thanks ~ BrightFuzzySocks