The Mountain
Before me is a mountain.
It strecthes high to touch the sky.
Inside are all my fears uncontained,
But I must conquer it, or at least try.
It houses my demons and ghosts,
my failures and my doubts.
They scream at me with boasts
About how I will always burn-out.
But one by one they fall before me
Slowly at first, but then with haste
By knowing their lies, that's the key
I can twart my fears, and turn them to waste.
That mountain of fears becomes a hill
And that hill of fears becomes a pile
One by one the fears I kill
Disappear, and slowly I smile
Something wrong with this poem?
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.