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Poem

One day we will be, forever silent.
Where would we be without poetry?

As a child, I buried my heart,
drained from games death would play -
in adulthood, it still refuses to resurface.

Grim Reaper hides in the corner of my eyes.

Is there such a thing as an overdose of sadness?
Because sometimes pain has no metaphor,
so we bleed the seeds of dormant blossoms.

I stare at a forgotten photograph,
at a boy I once knew from my past,
scruffy curly hair with tense, timid, tired eyes.
His life is a fuzzy blur, but I feel his misery.

Some memories are merely reflections,
some reminders, returning within season.
Unwanted souvenirs of how unfair life can be.

When skies are clouded like ashen smoke,
all I hear is untuned violin strings, screeching -
violent, like tangible bursts of thunder.

An orchestra of lightening forcing an
explosions of unerupted emotions.
Like pain placed in a paper bag,
scattered like a dead man's ashes.

I've come to terms with people 
not seeing beyond the smile.
Still I search for love in freezing rain,
to prevent from numbing sensations.

In the darkness of death,
I still remember the white lights -
and my mother's rainbow love

maybe that's what saved me.

I realise the reality of adversity.
I'm an advocate of its lessons -
because, i'm a definition of each battle,
yet I know the war is far from over.

Poetry is the perfect way to release suppressed emotions.
My heart desires to beat like a flutist's musical notes -
like a kite floating higher and higher against brutal winds.

Silent One
4 December 2020

This is an example of my current contest called catharsis poetry.
I attempted to use poetry techniques like light alliteration and assonance.

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