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Brynn Rose Poem
Words demand be written.
Ink begins to flow.
Sentences form.
Thoughts race.
Like raindrops down a window.
There's a lake in my mind
And it's always raining.
Where does the water escape?
Where can words go?
They flow through my veins,
Like blood or poison.
They sustain me
Destroy me.
Can I find a place to rest?
Who can save me?
Am I redeemable?
The words flow to my fingers,
Like water through the veins of a rock.
I am no longer in control.
Sometimes it makes sense.
Sometimes I am crazy.
Sometimes, the words refuse to fit.
They are either territorial or
They combine and the sentences form.
No matter what, all I know, is that
Words demand to be written,
Ink begins to flow.
Copyright © Brynn Rose | Year Posted 2016
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Brynn Rose Poem
The memories pull her down,
Like the undertow.
Drowning.
Suffocating.
She tries to fight it,
But it’s of no use.
She feels dirty, fat, victimized, defiled,
Extorted, broken, and ugly.
She can feel their hands on her
The unwelcome touches and gestures.
She feels small, defenseless, vulnerable, violated.
Their taunts, threats, lies, and commands fill her ears.
She covers herself with multiple layers of clothing,
But no matter how many she has on
She can still feel them.
She covers her ears,
But no matter how hard she presses her hands
She can still hear them.
She relives it all
Every day and every night.
She’s terrified to sleep.
Terrified to live.
The nightmares are relentless.
The flashbacks, torture.
When will it stop?
When will it end?
Will it ever be over?
The memories escape from her eyes
And stream down her face.
She tries to stuff the memories
Back into their closets
And the demons back into the abyss
That some would call her soul.
But she’s too tired,
Too weak,
Too exhausted,
Too devastated.
She shuts her eyes
And locks them tight,
Like the door to a prison cell.
She crawls to the darkest corner of her mind,
Curls up in a ball,
And waits,
Yet again,
For it all to be over.
Copyright © Brynn Rose | Year Posted 2016
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Brynn Rose Poem
Is it cold, like the moon?
Will I see it whole
Or will one side always be dark?
Hidden?
Cold?
Distant?
Is the sun blue and dark?
Is it dark and lonely?
Will it dry my tears?
Will it dissipate my fears?
Will it chase away the storm?
Will it keep me company when I’m alone?
Will it play with me when I need a friend?
Will it scare away the shadows?
Will it frighten away the monsters,
The ones in my head?
Will it hold me warm and tight?
Will it burn away the bad
And replace it with its light?
When I need a friend to talk to,
Will it lend an active ear?
When I have to be on my own,
Can I count on it being close by?
If I let it in, will it hurt me?
Will it play with my heart and mind?
Will it care when I am sad?
Please, tell me it will not lie.
I wonder about the sun
And its brilliant light.
I wonder
Could it share a little with me
To save me from the night?
Copyright © Brynn Rose | Year Posted 2016
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Details |
Brynn Rose Poem
Reading is the portal
To take you where you long to be.
The book you hold
Becomes a giant, walk-through screen.
A looking glass.
Take one step, then two.
The words are your guide,
Your mind is the key.
The words ebb and flow,
Like the fountain pen on paper.
They dance and leap
Like ballerinas across a stage.
They come in clusters,
Both large and small.
They take over my mind,
Like an overgrown forest.
They pull me back and forth
Through time and reality.
They are a fluorescent stone
In the dark mine of my soul.
They take me through pain and joy
Longing and satisfaction
Trials and joy.
They guard and guide me.
They take me where I long to go.
They quiet my hiraethness for a time.
They are lovely,
Because they allow me to hide,
Roam
Their mazes and corridors.
They are cruel,
Because eventually they must return me
To a place I have no desire to be apart of.
A place I do not belong.
Copyright © Brynn Rose | Year Posted 2016
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