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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required With the waves crashing down on my mind I struggle to breath, water filling my broken lungs, Tears mixing with the salty sea, swallowing my body in it's roiling currents Breaking down the elements into a dust, Scattered dreams and thoughts floating on a gilded surface With the fire flowing down my skin I whimper as it consumes my identity, sparks lighting up my eyes Burning my skin, hollowing my heart and stealing my cares Boiling my blood away, into a vapor trailing through the atmosphere Tearing my essence apart, the embers glowing like an abandoned forge Crippled limbs of heavens long forgotten by time and it's friends Water and fire, they burn and drown, If I could say which was worse, I wouldn't have a blackened or suffocated mind If I could choose one to die from, to go out in pain or peace Both with arrant beauty as death and love take me away into the beyond abyss, far into the depths, and high above the sky In a place of nothing, of absence and complete nonexistence Then I would have to say, the sound of home, a crackling fire would be a remembrance of a life, but in suffering I shall go Yet I find myself drawn as lead to paper to the idea of acceptance in the sea's lovely grasp A burden left behind on the shoreline, with the lost and unknown as company So, shall the decision cost me a life? No, I say, it will not cost me anything but a body already dead Shredded by words scorned stones thrown by the living Although they are murderers in each's own right, I stand Queen to that title, for they did not cast those looks for free, nor alone In the night I stood at an altar and bleed for my gods, In the day I prayed for salvation from my nightmares around me Seek the light, they would tell me, and you will be found But I have lived in this darkness for so long, it has become me and my home A shelter from the storm swirling outside these cobweb walls Caught inside, a spider without a will to fight Must there be an answer to the long abated question; Is there a reply I can formulate without the harshness of their words to punish back? The world is a wondrously tragic truth no one can read but those who are too, a truth Born of the miseries and the deaths that bring about that talk of devils and demons The ones that live inside my head, who made me an empress, the ones who stole me away and gave me the choice; of peace or suffering? Is it not so imperfect that I must choose, an unworthy merit to make me take Of all the liberties given, the only one I wish not to see Is the one standing in front of me.
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