Break Us Down

Thrive on pain
Inflict suffering
Against us
And for us
All things are weapons to us
To break a soul down.
 
The good pass
We forget their ways
Speak kindly
And often
Instead we torture others
And for what, I ask?
 
A brief peace
By passing our pain
How about
We offer
To lift each other higher?
Together, we may yet rise.
~Thanks for reading! This was my attempt at a Shadorma poem (though it is more than one linked together). It follows a 3/5/3/3/7/5 syllable pattern, without rhymes. I find I enjoy the syllable focused ones as it adds a new challenge with words.
~I will also add it was my entry into a challenge on Prose. They post their own challenges and users can, too. It is a great way to find inspiration if you need it!

Imaginary Whims

Wish the image in my mind

Could be put on paper

Pristine, crisp

or

Abstract, colourful.

 

Sometimes I succeed with words

But not with pen, pencil, paint

On Canvas

or Paper.

 

The image in my mind

mocks me, taunts me.

It wants out

It wants more

 

But I cannot fulfill its imaginary whims.

And it hurts my soul.

It’ll Pass, Won’t It?

It seeps into the soul.

This Silence.

Absorbing all the noise.

All Energy.

It leaves its victims.

Fatigued and Ashamed.

Heartbeats pulse against a hollow shell.

Faint and Weak.

Eyelids close, weighed down.

Darkness.

All are stuck in this mire.

No fight.

It covers the whole body.

A burden.

Seeping into the bones.

Controlling.

And a lullaby sounds in the mind.

Desperate cries.

The ink jar runs empty.

Sleep descends.

Time slows til its frozen.

Death.

Don’t rebel against the nameless monster.

It’ll pass.

Won’t it?

 

Three Parts

I was a child,
Reckless and wild.
Free to create,
Love or hate.
 
I am unknown,
A mystery of my soul.
A part of past,
A mold to be cast.
 
I will be…
Me?
Cracked, but Strong,
Will to carry on.
A writer with ink,
Who refuses to sink.
A wife with a dream,
A hope that gleams.
 
I mean, who knows?
I feed my fires,
Hold on to my wishes,
Cherish my desires.
 
But I don’t know
More than anyone else.
I’ll fight to that future image,
And I will see for myself.

It’s Hard To Kill What’s True

It’s hard to kill what’s true.

It hides inside your soul,

Reaching forward for your heart.

It inspires passion,

Feeds the struggling fire

You secret from the world.

It turns on the light

You’re afraid to shine

The blinding brightness too much.

It’s hard to kill what’s true.

It screams when you refuse to listen,

pouts when you deny its truth.

It defends itself

Against your self deprecating lies.

It fights for its freedom

Its actualization in your mind.

You see

It’s hard to kill what’s true

Because the truth is…

You’re Amazing to Someone

Even if that someone

Isn’t you.

 

 

Solitude

Quiet echoes off barren walls
Darkness fills the mind
And yet
In silent contemplation
Its emptiness is comforting.
 
Day after day
Week after Week
Locked in her room
She stays
Tempted to shed this second skin.
 
Instead
She holds herself tightly
The beating of her heart
Fills her conscious
And she falls in to the abyss
of her own making.
 
A key in the lock
A click
The door opens
Light shines through
And there…
 
The one person welcome
To shatter her world
And bring her into his.