|
I wrote a poem, a while back.. I can't remember it well, it's like a dazed dream. I know where the poem is.. but it doesn't deserve to be where it is. Probably burn't or ripped apart. But, the words were mine.. mine alone. I spoke of my life being like a dark tunnel, it's impossible to see, but it feels cold, so cold it brings chills to the skin, and your breath is clearly shown. You can feel the walls.. they are rough.. and frozen. A light is seen, a small yellow light.. showing through the tunnels pass. Helping me see my way through the tunnel. At the time of my poem, I assumed the light would be, to help me find my way to the sun. That the sun was nearly steps away, I could see clearly. But, light can be tricky it told me, stories of love, and eternal happiness. But, it only spoke words.. actions.. were forever lies. I realise now.. the tunnel, was simply a hardship it was all a realistic dream. A way to help me to my real happiness. I felt tears, and pain.. the heavyness in my chest. I couldn't get rid of. I seen no point, the obsession grabed me. I needed the light. I thought it was my key to escape the tunnle, but as time went on.. I realised the light had became father and farther away. It may have seemed like I could reach for it. But, at the last moment so far away, not even my tears, or wishes could bring it back. I was in darkness once again. Except this time I didn't feel anything. People say i'd rather feel loss then nothing at all, but I don't feel as such. I would rather feel nothingness, then feel the pain i've felt. But, what I didn't realise about my poem is, it's not over yet. In the darkness I didn't need a light. I found my own light within me, I didn't need to find it at the end of the tunnel, because if I would've just opened my eyes, the light was all around me. I have finally found peace, all the things I wrote can be memories, not current events. I will be okay.
|
