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The Last Daughter

by eliley

A yell, a hit, a tear. Sounds echo in my thoughts Why am I ignorant? Why do I lie? I dream; I don’t remember Well it's nothing new, Nothing to shake the rattles in the mind My heart laughs; pain must be present. I am the last, the genuine thing Already I am no longer looked at with disgruntle or respect. A prisoner of my own stupid intellect. This empty room is filled with sound. Can you sense the heat of Satan's breath? The beat of Christ's song is pounding in my chest. The reality of what I need winds itself around my heart. What am I for? My truth is only mediocre Must have something to set me apart. Where does this stem from? Childhood? Why not, it's an easy enough target. You're entrapped in the web I weave of Stories, feelings, and conniving words. You'll never know it's origin I am the last. The genuine thing There is no escape from truth.
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eliley

It's through the ink that my heart beats. I am not a "Poet", I am a poem gradually being written day by day.

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Comments (2)

fatima
That was a really good poem, my favorite line would have to be "The beat of Christ's song is pounding in my chest". Definitely a moving poem.
eliley
I wrote this a while back, and to this day when I read it I can relive that day. So much pain, & yet I couldn't tell anyone.

Comments are closed for this poem.