The Hope of the Woken

I need someone to hold me,

To wrap their arms around me and 

Squeeze the sorrow away

 

But I know I can't have that sometimes,

And that's okay;

It has to be 

 

Release me from this anger,

The bad thoughts of never returning,

Never belonging,

Never being a significant human being

 

Help me, fellow human, but

Do it as you know I need

 

As I lay here under the blanket,

Idly hiding from this nightmare,

Hoping to melt, 

I wonder

 

Why am I still here?

What's the point in crawling out of bed today?

 

Then a voice reminds me,

That little voice we all try to ignore,

It reminds me of wonderful things,

Safe havens of the woken world

 

Like cats,

Cats are nice.

 

Or songs sung by people in harmony, happy people who actually care.

 

Or rainbows outside in the sky...pure ones society hasn't turned into something symbolic, just rings of light refracting off liquid particles in the atmosphere.

 

Or math equations that flow throughout my conscience, solving the little problems there.

 

Or holding hands with my lover, smelling his scent, knowing that I'll be okay, at least for a while.

 

Or beautiful pictures of trees and animals and stars, nature's gifts that will stand beside me unconditionally.

 

Or dreams of better places, loving people, and happy nights.

 

Or the sense of security found through God, one that not everyone accepts.

 

Or cold weather, the kind that lets me wear beanies and cardigans and boots comfortably.

 

These are the things worth waking up for.

 

So am I.

This poem is about: 
Me
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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