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Metaphor Angst Poems | Metaphor Poems About Angst

These Metaphor Angst poems are examples of Metaphor poems about Angst. These are the best examples of Metaphor Angst poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Free verse | |

January Rain

Chaotic rain divulges errantly how can this be God's poetry it plunders like a tsunami the Devil's masterpiece How can this be mercy torrent waters surge floods creating oceans inescapable drowning Each rain drop becomes louder caught in the line of fire no escaping the bullets tranquil peace destroyed Peaceful melodies are lost storms reflect unpleasant music senseless evil heavy metal lyrics no purpose - shouting and screaming Doused, drenched, engulfed suffocating - soaking strain where is Noah and his Ark? Will this barricade conclude The Silent One 7 January 2016

Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2016

Details | Dodoitsu | |

of love of war

of love of war
the staff of a prophet, seen fairness not imagine, sings shouting out, obscenity recognized, yet in search of fame, seeking stance the moment arises, seek of voice of power, godsend renown supremacy, yet prophet not acknowledged, kept desire of a great life, sought skill of voice, articulate hardly ever, cheek no longer free, famous self seldom bite snarls dogma, link of country of faith, kinship all that’s true, fair play desired fame acknowledged, pent the home front, covetousness war or peace love or hate, just yelp puppy love, nice _________________________| Penned on September 28, 2014!

Copyright © Verlena S. Walker | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse | |

Black sheep

Misunderstood Misquoted Misrepresented So many questions Did you ask her in the mirror? So abrupt to point the blame but did you ask yourself why? Bitter tongue with acerbity led to words that cannot be erased Nescient perverse stubbornness Did it make you feel proud? So quick to play the victim but ignorantly obtuse to the pain that you caused Your ego is out of control burning you inside maybe have a conversation, before you become blind Why did you cry your eyes out - when he died especially when he didn't exist to you alive Guilt, regret or crocodile tears - true emotions confused In your grief why didn't you learn to forgive still carrying painful memories like rotten fruit In your tangled state of mind everything you breed - will be a hateful seed selfish greed is a demonic need - a vicious circle Still a little girl lost in an adult's body seduced by the puppet master who pulls at your heart strings but can't you see - he is manipulating your vulnerabilities like a paedophile grooming his innocent prey! Maybe one day you will learn to listen rid yourself of this curse of bitterness You claim you are unique and different the black sheep of the family In reality your are a confused adolescent mortal lost within the phenomenon of being immortal One day you will crash right back into realism sadly though the damage will be done - it will be too late! 26 October 2015

Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

Musical Torment - The Infamous Masterpieces

Torturing me with touches
I feel the sting of hardened and lasting lust
Touches not of mortal fingers,
But Halloween-haloed strings composed by musicians of mystery
Pressing upon my back--yes! A searing, yet melodi-errotic strike
All upon me, yet far from me...

Leave me not in the judgement of my own scrambling feelings
Rest not away as I hold my hands out in the dark
Deathly dances are visions heaven-bound for the duo--
Yet for the solo- a blank, useless measure...

The pulsing silence of amateur-stitched love rattles me
Making rhythms giggle in my mind
Intervals of idiocy tormenting all reason
Truly an agonizing, but for others--minor--prison
Is the smile that helped design those strings
Those strings that pluck upon my spine
Controlling me in a dark place stuck between tunes and time

Why are your hands so cold when you play those piano keys?
Why are your lungs so eroded with the pride that taints the songs you sing?
Why have the rhythms gone awry, and why does your apathetic dissonance thrive?

And tell me… through it all…
As you compose the rise and fall…
Why is all this destruction you created so vibrantly alive?

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2014

Details | Quatrain | |

The Welfare Poem

The welfare poem is not for you
and not enough for anyone.
The welfare poem is very small
and not just given to everyone.

It's not enough to read for long.
It's just a little short.
It's not paid much attention to
and not the longing sort.

With thanks there's those who'll get it.
Those of who deserve it.
It's just some stolen words,
though I would soon forget it.

It's filled with much disgrace.
Those wary as they read.
It may be meant for you
if you accept the need.

I hope you have enjoyed it.
I'll cut you off for now.
But if you want more later
just beg there's more somehow.

Copyright © Trevor McLeod | Year Posted 2014

Details | Rhyme | |

Not another day

Impulsive or compulsive

Either way it's not conducive

Living with this disorder

Can't be good for my liver

Obsessions, when do they stop?

Compulsions, when do I stop?

Let me illustrate and reiterate

My demons make me infuriated

To the point, man, I really want to escape this

Live everyday like your last?

These hours go by fast

Trying to obliterate every ounce of the past

Always with the imagery and self coping insanity

That broke me and continues to break me.

Another day, no not another day

I just got out, please let me stay away.

Copyright © Stefan Cote | Year Posted 2016

Details | Epic | |

Light On the Devil's Chord - Day 18

I studied him, just as he studied me
I in disgust, confusion, and he in angry fantasy
His eyes, black, and yet still blackening
He embraced me with a terrible fit in his mind
Those piercing eyes, saturated in obsession,
Moving up and down my steady body
He watched as I drew in resolved breaths
Sensing my growing antipathy
Beyond the ease in my tone
He shook with want
He shook with angst

“Your dark thoughts are not hidden in my sight
This you will know by my piercing stare
There is power in words, 
Just as there is power in your glare” 

“Then breathe with me,” He sung with sting,
“And free all of your wants and cares…
Be the master of your own destiny,
And with your straying light, impair
Me, just as you impair your faith,
Against all but your own breast,
Seize our moments with pursed desire
Dress me in your sweet sung fire
Darling dear, our message is clear
Among this fight we share
Take a sip of my saccharine whip 
And consume the inviting dare
Be my temp as I lure you
Deceive me as I floor you
Damask me, shock me, piss on my pride,
I dare your soul to take these reigns and ride”

In my ears he sung, 
“Let us be lost together…”
Like a roaring sea trapped in a restricted bowl
Ready to overflow the moment my lips consent

“Hellbent you are,” I sadly sung
“Hellbent, and dragging all the lonely with you,
How strange we have come to these crossroads,
To test our patience with lusts unspent
Hellbent, you are, hellbent!
And yet you would croak to crush all heaven-sent
Give me into your darkness, never see the day
Follow me into the light, and never be the same!
You are my lovely enticement, oh Devil, oh Prince,
Your claws clutch in my knowing heart,
And I thrash in diffidence
Emboldening me, your lure,
The stone in you has fled
Grow in this desire, sweet wings
Your light is yet not dead”

Holding me, I felt his darkness lathering me
My eyes, my nostrils, blurred in his scent 
“Your light is yet not dead…” I whispered again
Fainting, eyes struggling to stay awake,
I clasped his shoulder and shook my head

For in his eyes he realized,
That his light was yet not dead

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Trapped like a bird in this filthy cage 
Where I am starved of compassion and understanding 
Left to survive on meager crumbs 
Of affection and tolerance
Held captive and unable to fly and be free 
From the physical and emotional restrictions 
Placed upon me by my keeper
Who’s only reason for my presence it seems 
Is to stay its loneliness and insecurity 
To feed its selfish need for control 
Through its twisted concept 
Of love and adoration 
I am looked upon as a possession 
Other than the living, breathing individual 
That I long to be 

So now I sit upon my proverbial perch 
In my so called gilded cage
In the confines of my seemingly mundane existence 
And walk though my mind confused and alone
Aimlessly wandering through the now empty spaces 
That no longer hold the dreams or aspirations 
Which I once thought gave my life purpose 

Memories which were bright and alive 
Full of promise and hope but have faded away 
Into a past that is now grey and bleak 
Devoid of anything worth remembering 
My footfalls echo in the silence 
Giving testament that these memories 
Have been empty and forgotten long ago 

My only hopes now are that my keeper 
Will grow tired of my deliberate silence 
And obvious disdain and release me 
Whether through life or by death 
At this point either would be welcome 

How I long for the freedom 
And comfort of the clear blue sky 
The ability to soar like a bird 
High above the reaches 
Of those who only want to keep me 
And fly towards the bright and colorful horizon 
Where I know my future waits 
And new memories and dreams can be made.

Copyright © Thomas King | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse | |


He wants to say "I love you,"
But keeps it to "Goodnight."
Because love would mean some falling,
and she's afraid of heights.


Copyright © Tyler Kisner | Year Posted 2013

Details | Narrative | |

A Land Bearing Green White Green

Which way leads to the 
land of green white 
Which way are we 
   A country the wicked 
bears the rulership, and 
the people sighing 
   A terrible thing sprouts 
beneath the sun: a 
pregnant woman 
delivering not.
Imps come to lime-light 
by snuffing air from the 
goose that laid the 
golden eggs.
The blind guiding the un
The weak suppressing 
the strong-a terrible 
Like the overthrow of the 
gods at Mt. Olympus by 
the Titans.
A country where also 
thieves appear as men of 
Land of green white 
green,which way?
A land where the 
enlightened ones are 
overshadowed and 
peanuts given to them.
The masses are dogs that 
eat the crumbs.
 Which way to go you 
Iliterates stand on 
podium of power 
bellowing orders as milk 
of sorrow known as 
dividends of democracy 
is passed around.
The machine of progress 
manned by the 
"There is better 
tomorrow" we hear.
Land of green white 
green,my country 
where rule of law walk 
beside anarchy.
The proles are sentenced 
to adversity,and there 
endured death-like trials.
Chai! Aru! People 
dancing on thorns 
whimpering as they 
  I see a new sun rising 
from the horizon,hope is 
rekindled as its rays 
grace on hopeless bodies.
 Look!! there soon be 


Copyright © Ifeanyi Bob Ekechukwu | Year Posted 2013

Details | Lyric | |


Let the Deicide commence.

You're a voyeur at best!
Your vampiric heart is beating out of your chest!
And you have slayed the ones whom would love you for anything less
Ready to consume the final fragments of innocence,
And for you there is no forgiveness,
On your knees pleading, screaming to a tyrant in the skies;
The father of lies.

I will never be enslaved in your superiority
The people agree: jaded of your false dichotomies.
Know: I will be whomever nature intends to be
Apollo and I will share our dreams,
and you will be forced to see
your failure!

I know who you are...
Readily the first to present your scars
Chained by some despot or mental czar
An emotional homunculus in your mind, behind bars
Reluctant to escape - even when proven fake
Your demented mind - depths no one will penetrate!
...And you see me suffering
Not caring of any casualties
Just as long you recieve your safeguard of sympathy
So very wary of the masses and their Anarchy; Liberious ways

Solipsist - Is there no one you can see?
Even if she was presented burning?
Solipsist - Is there no one you can believe?
Even if Sophia was screaming?
Solipsist - Know you have killed and abused me
Imprisoned in your own  personal reality 

Copyright © Wyatt Loethen | Year Posted 2013

Details | Haiku | |

Haikus About God: IV

God made all people
But some better than others?
Stop being silly.

Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013

Details | Personification | |

Can't escape my shadow

                      No matter how fast I run, the past can't be undone

                  I've moved from here to there, I've been almost everywhere
                         No matter where I go...I can't escape my shadow!

                          It follows me to the beach, it's never out of reach

                             Especially in the sun, it's darkness is the one

                    That people seem to remember, even when it's September
                   No matter how much I've grown...I can't escape my shadow!

                          It follows me even at night, he's never out of sight

                          Even if I went to the moon, he'd follow behind soon

                  Even when my light shines bright, dark companions at my right

                 No matter how much light I've shone...I can't escape my shadow!

                       I don't see him personally, he's been gone for quite a while

                   When others stop seeing him, that would really make me smile.

                                John Derek Hamilton   December 12,2015

Copyright © John Hamilton | Year Posted 2015

Details | I do not know? | |

I Don't Care

I Don't Care...

I don't care,
if you're battered black and blue,

I don't care,
just as long as I can drink and screw.

I don't care,
if you've lost your damn job,

I don't care,
you're just a kernel off the cob.

I don't care,
when I see you begging in the street,

I don't care,
I get to suckle on capitalism's raw teat.

I don't care,
about the elderly, the poor, or the weak,

I don't care,
if the earth will be inherited by the meek.

I don't care,
if the climate is warming, I'm so much cooler,

I don't care,
in my penthouse I'm the boss, the only ruler.

I don't care,
for those rolling for scraps in the muck,

I don't care,

I really don't care, cos' I don't give a f**k

inspired by Bob Geldof's "The Great Song of Indifference"

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013

Details | Shape | |


We just go round and round In endless circles Hot and Cold Always chasing eachother Going no where Ending up with nothing Yet destroying everything In our path As we play The same Old Games

Copyright © Nichole Parker | Year Posted 2015

Details | Haiku | |

Haikus About God: VI

The body: sacred
We’re all made in God’s image
Hence... circumcision?

Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013

Details | Dodoitsu | |



Brusted gree skirt the terrain --
its fortress now smog of pains.
Sprolled brave emoticons flurst
floppled by remorse.

Alive, lovely floriage.
no mercy, at once loafted!
Finentual world ethics 
forgotten clang cries.

Blind men sinduced to power:
justice then a fadograph.
Bescraped kindness ,dusten traits,
birthing woes and death.

Precious breathing counts one, two. 
In and out wheezing some help
Oozing damage marks hatred
Peace start when war ends.

(c) Olive ELoisa
August 20, 2014

from the list: smog, emoticon

from research:
brusted - Brown Broken and Rusted
gree - any number of green trees
sprolled - sped and rolled
flurst - flew and burst
floppled - fell, flopped and toppled
floriage - flowers and foliage
loafted - floated and drifted
finentual - final and eventual
sinduce - sin and seduce
fadograph - fade photograph
bescrape - escaped and broke
dusten -dusty and beaten

Copyright © Olive Eloisa Fraser | Year Posted 2014

Details | Haiku | |

Glowing Reminiscence

Basking in moonlight,
Old birds remember the nest.
Ruffles my feathers.

Copyright © Robert Candler | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse | |

The Storm

And the storm calls to me in ways you'll never understand
A gentle call that urges my soul forth
The lighting guiding a path for my feet to walk
Between the stones and ash of all that once was
I stand in the echoing silence of the rain 
It drops down upon my skin like the blessing waters of heaven
Soothing me, lifting the weight from my body 
I feel at once as if I am home
Standing amid two dimensions 
Caught between two skies - here and there
The night wraping around me in warmth
The gentle wind lifting me off my feet
Drops from the clouded moon washing away my body
and I am left just a soul, an essence 
The storm calls me forth from beneath my roof
Beckoning me into its depth 
I stand among the reeds in the basin 
They dance and sway as if welcoming me
And I sway with them back 
Caught up in the power that charges the air
That threatens to sweep me away 
If the ground will just loosen its hold
The thunder rumbles a low welcoming growl
And I get pleasently lost within it
I am so small compared to its vastness
I close my eyes and succumb to the skies wishes
Rising higher until my feet no longer touch the ground 
My fingertips touch the liquid color of the stars
A sigh drifts from my lips
There is no need of thought to stay afloat
There is no demand to breathe in air
No crushing weight upon my chest
As my lungs struggle to survive
There are no struggles here
I make my bed on blackened clouds
And give in to the call
The storm has claimed me as its own 
It was such a struggle to stay upon the ground
When the storm would call me home

Copyright © Jay Loveless | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme | |


Decisions made, the poem you write, 
Hold hidden meaning from your sight. 
Will never soothe a welling tear 
Or aptly tame a childhood fear. 

A retrospect of yesterday 
Won't reassemble for display 
Or paint a canvased future doubt, 
As colors dimmed by years fade out. 

Just as the roads you chose ahead 
No longer trace the steps you tread. 
How dull the scattered remnants bought
And not the glittered gold you sought. 

Gene Bourne.


Copyright © Gene Bourne | Year Posted 2014

Details | Sonnet | |


Arise, you song birds sing in morning dew;
The flow’ry host to colour fields and furrows,
And sap of Spring runs gold in willows veins; 
As tender leaves unfold to speak of birth,
Fresh mountain ranges iced give life anew—
While waters melt and stream through cricks and borrows
The gleams of light will melt the winter strains
Though spills of oil have quenched the songs of earth.
The corporate sting of greedful revenue,  
Has bankrupt natural wonders—greedy farrows
The eagle has no pow’r to save her eggs,
Tall forests fall and crush the robin’s hue
When flow’ry petals change to black on yellow—
The spotted fawns arise with warbled legs

Copyright © J.R. Dawson | Year Posted 2013

Details | I do not know? | |

Tomorrow is Ours

Tomorrow is Ours.

Suffocating beneath the weight of historical fear,
asphyxiated by the legacy of traumatised yesteryear,

the festering wounds of enslavement still remain,
juggling euphemisms in a crisp sound-bitten refrain,

spewing out neo-liberal economic charades,
doling out charity in strips of plastic band-aids,


tomorrow shall be ours,

casting away subservient mind-sets that shackle,
no longer the weakened prey of the insatiable jackal,

tomorrow shall be ours,

we shall reclaim our plundered mindspaces,
we shall shed our chains, leaving behind the traces,

of past injustice, of the hurt and pain of our ancestors' sorrows,

we are here, now, alive with hope,

we shall rightfully claim our own tomorrows.

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

Only in You

Through the lonely woods, I may head,

Upon the autumn leaves, I may tread,

At the secluded horizon, I may stare,

And only you, I may see,

In those symphonies of silence,

In those melodies of calmness,

In those euphonies of quietness.


By the silent lake, I may lay,

Till the twilight fades, I may stay,

Then in reclusive silence, I may walk,

And only to you, I may talk,

Through those toungueless emotions,

Through those wordless attachments,

Through those voiceless sentiments.


In the lone meadow, I may wander,

Along the untrodden paths, I may waver,

In companionless seclusion, I may hide,

And only in you, I may find,

The depths of oneness,

The bonds of togetherness,

The cozy feel of coalescence.


In the wilderness of emotions, I may die,

At the merciless daggering, I may sigh,

Through a million wounds, I may bleed,

And only in you, I may seek,

The balm of love,

The warmth of affection,

The heal of inseparability.

Copyright © Suyash Saxena | Year Posted 2013

Details | I do not know? | |


when you're fast asleep
and thoughts creep into your head
and flood your brain until it weeps
and your mind descends dark and deep
into a land of dead end worlds
where the only way out
is the way you came in
but the road is way too steep
and your feet are made of lead
and every smile is just pretend
and nothing is to be believed
and you're going off the deep end
bleeding rivers of hatred
into a pool of shallow deceit
where every thought is colored red
and every shade of black completes
every nightmare ever conceived
born of blood-stained dreams within dreams
where that person you used to be
is falling into skies of silent screams
and contemplating death
all the while wishing
to be alive again

Copyright © Simoriah Hairomis | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme | |

Reluctant To Climb

Diogenes sought an honest man,
to defer Man’s path to destruction.
And searched Athens by lantern each day, 
yet, found only lies and corruption.

He announced that his search was fruitless,
integrity’s too easily bought.
And Man’s willingness to sell His soul,
meant an honest man was vainly sought.

When the hungry specter of greed feeds,
its appetite offers no relief.
And circumvents inconvenient truths, 
under guise of popular belief. 

Man's conscience can discern right from wrong,
yet, His morals have slipped over time.
And after having fallen so far,
He’s broken, and reluctant to climb.

Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2015

Details | I do not know? | |

The Petty Posh-WahZee - Liberation and Ostentation

The Petty Posh-Wahzee - Liberation & Ostentation

The Not-So Distant Past:

The fallen fighters for freedom, are unable to turn in their graves,
their battered, fragmented bones, mixed with a handful of torn rags,
are all that remain, a mute reminder of their selfless valiant sacrifice.

They endured brutal Apartheid harassment, detentions without trial,
torture in the cells, and mental anguish when loved ones disappeared,
they left their homeland, to continue the struggle against racial bigotry,
while countless others fought the scourge of white-minority rule at home.

Nelson Mandela and many, many others, spent their lives imprisoned,
on islands of stone, and on islands of the cruellest torture, yet they stood,
never bowing, never scraping, they stood, firm for ideals for which they were prepared to die,

and many, many comrades did die, at the hands of the callous oppressor,
and many, many comrades perished in distant lands, torn from their homes,
while the struggle continued, for decades, soaked in blood, in tears, in pain.

The Present:

19 years have passed, since freedom was secured at the highest of prices,
delivering unto us, this present, a gift of emancipation from servitude,

a freedom to walk this land, head held high, no longer second-class citizens,
in the land of our ancestors, whose voices we hear and need to heed today.

I do not care much for fashion, Lewis-Fit-On and Sleeves unSt.-Moron,
yet the ostentation that I witness baffles even my unsophisticated palate,

our ancestors' plaintive whispers are being dismissed, left unheeded, as
we browse the aisles for more and more, always for more and yet more.

Asphyxiated by the excess of the Petty Posh-Wahzee, we find ourselves,
perched precariously on the edge, of a dissolution of all that is humane,

babies go hungry, wives are battered, our elders left in hospitals for hours,
I cringe as I scribble these words, perhaps too sanctimonious and preachy,

yet I know, deep in the marrow of my brittle bones, I know, I know, I know,
this tree of freedom planted by the nameless daughters and sons of Africa,

needs to be shielded, nurtured, protected from our very own baser impulses,
so that the precious tree of freedom, may bear the fruit that may feed us all,

for if not, then we are doomed, to tip over, and into the yawning abyss, we shall fall.

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme | |

When Demons Awake

My soul has seen the depths of hell
For I have sailed the seven seas of blood
Immortality tortured beyond consciousness
The tears of man begin to flood...

Cataclysmic imagery within the serpent’s eyes
Colossal death a warning to the wise
Shunned from love and happiness
Embracing sorrow with a bittersweet caress

Holocaustic means that man provides
Satisfying needs then subsides
Demonic destruction building the wasteland
From dust to ashes nothing shall stand

The demons awake from their fiery hell's
With teeth of the Hydra and pernicious smells
The eternities open the doors of time
For a moment their rays of darkness shine

But woe to thee that sleeps within
With running rage and compounding sin
That only Love can save your soul
And thus return you demons to your hellish hole.

For Contest...OWN IT!
By Cyndi MacMillan

Copyright © Winged Warrior | Year Posted 2016

Details | I do not know? | |

For Bruce Springsteen

for bruce springsteen...

it was a rain-swept monsoon day

way back then, so many moons away

when i felt the music strumming in my veins

setting me free like a runaway horse without any reins

you sang of simple truths, 

your verse spoke to people just like me

in my lonely, wasted, and desolately quiet night

as you screamed out tragic human wrongs, and of everyone's plight

'bobby jean' spoke to me

of that girl down the street

glimpses of whom, we as innocents would furtively meet

and 'the river' that flowed through my ever-barren heart

led me down further roads of thunder

when slowly i finally learnt that the hardest part was fighting on

and never to surrender

to the hard-luck dreams that were born to run

while i danced in the dark 

with memories vivid and stark

even as i whined like that dog who for forever lost his howling bark

and then a 'human touch' came along

and 'better days' seemed real, not just words in a song

and still you sang and swayed and spoke straight into my unseeing eyes

as gardens of secrets were opened, and as your fist punched the skies

in an anger that i too felt and in whose cauldron i too burned

as we saw murder get incorporated, while on its wobbly axis, our fragile world apathetically turned

and then suddenly i was told that i was all grown up

working on a highway of scattered ideals

and absolving myself by sprinkling some coins in a waiting cup

well, after all these years of walking along so many a thorny road

with an armour of your verse covering me, even as i hear them taunt me and even as they continue to goad

but now i can feel myself fading away, into the bleakness of this coming night

just like the ghost of that old tom joad...

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013

Details | Verse | |

Inevitable Bear

Oh lonely Inevitable Bear,
Padding claws, death in white
Sorrow in recurring nightmare
Instinct’s test; fight or flight?

Camouflage against the fence,
A challenge; my subconscious fear
Ominous slowly moving silence,
“Let me in, there’s a bear out here!”

Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme | |

When He Breaks You

When He breaks you

It is to re-make you.


If given the choice

To give destiny your voice

You would undoubtedly have picked this state

Such is the irony of fate


He breaks you now

So you later see the how -

How the pieces of your journey come to be

A slow but eventual solving of this mystery


He makes you work work work – then fail

So that you realize your means are of no avail

Without His will -

But feel His mercy fill -

Even through the aches still


He punctures your bubble of hope

To teach you the meaning of struggling to cope

To avoid you saying ‘this was all from me’

Which you might say if it always did come so easy


He lets you fall

So that when you stand

It’s straight and tall

Your past sorrows

Not letting you drown

Without your ego

Weighing you down


Even while the road appears smooth

He lets you trip and trip again

So that you might stumble upon hidden treasures

From the dirt, which you may otherwise not gain


In essence,

He knows Best

The perfect Teacher

Who puts the perfect test



He breaks you

To re-make you…


Copyright © Aya Salah | Year Posted 2013