Discussion in 'Poet's Corner' started by BelovedDreamer, Feb 9, 2014.

Thread Status:
Not open for further replies.
  1. BelovedDreamer

    BelovedDreamer Well-Known Member

    I wish I could write it out
    write out this fear.
    Leech it from my blood onto the page.
    Strip it from my bones
    and become free.
    I’m sick of being sick,
    sick at heart, brain sick, soul sick,
    inexplicable, irreparable illness
    that steals my days
    and day by day is taking years.
    I fear fear itself,
    the waves and vicious eddies of distress
    that drag me down and toss me up
    without regard for harm or loss
    or time.
    It comes upon me
    slow and sneaking
    sudden and savage,
    and robs me like a magpie
    of every shiny thing I would make mine,
    or the pleasure I might have had of it.
    I want back
    every word stolen as it sought to leave my mouth,
    every smile curbed,
    every beating pulse of desire curdled,
    and aspiration stripped and defeated.
    I want removed
    every inch of space that has grown
    between myself and my loves and my world.
    I want my self returned.
    I am ill with the thought and strain
    of the unrelenting cycle
    of waking to dread,
    of living off-balance,
    of slipping into bed unsure.
    I am losing traction.
    I don’t want to let go.
  2. total eclipse

    total eclipse SF Friend Staff Alumni

    I really like your poem your words and how they are used to describe you struggle
  3. BelovedDreamer

    BelovedDreamer Well-Known Member

Thread Status:
Not open for further replies.