PoemsBrowse PoemsSlamsFresh DropEchoes
LearnWriting TipsPoetry TermsPoets & ArtistsBooksFor Teachers
ExplorePoetry GenomePoem MapEchoesTake ActionGroups
AboutWrite a PoemDonateSign UpLog In

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.

 
©All Rights Reserved

Something wrong with this poem?

Share

Replies are closed for this poem.

If you or someone you know is struggling, you are not alone.

988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline — call or text 988, 24/7. Crisis Text Line — text HELLO to 741741.

Your Poem's Voice

See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.

Comments (0)

Comments are closed for this poem.