Bluebird 06/18/2016

The clouds keep taunting,

Filling his head with irrational calls,

Slowly killing him from the inside-out.

 

He has never given in.

He has never quit,

He has never failed,

And yet today is the only exception.

 

Never voicing his thoughts,

His ideas become an instrument of torture.

Every cloud whispers darkness in his ear.

Every water droplet pours evil down his throat.

And every star reminds him of his insignificance.

 

So he flees.

 

Escaping to underwater depths,

He waits.

It is quiet now,

And he is no longer afraid.

 

When he dove beneath the surface,

He left behind what had cut him most:

His thoughts, his hands, his tongue.

Underwater there is nothing to hurt him,

Nothing to protect him,

Nothing but indescribable stillness.

It is here where he begins to heal.

 

This poem is about: 
Me

Comments