Home > prose and poetry > an untitled poem.

an untitled poem.

This is probably the closest I’ve ever come to expressing my emotions in a form that has some sort of literary worth. I didn’t want to put it up here initially, since I thought it was crap, but the opinions of some (important, again) people swayed me.

I wrote it in one shot during a bout of mixed rage and depression, so it is kind of raw. I only bothered to try and make things rhyme when I came to the end. I decided I didn’t want to go back and make everything rhyme, so here it is in all its unrefined, unpolished g(l)ory.

Something very interesting happened to me yesterday, although I’ll hold off on writing about it. I’m writing something in free verse (aka I decided to write prose in the form of poetry) about yesterday, so stay tuned!



begone, you foul beast
that threatens me night and day,
whether during the brightest afternoons
or during the darkest nights.

begone, you foul beast
that I cannot put a name to,
that I cannot put a face to,
yet haunts me all the same.

I know not why you exist
except, perhaps, to haunt and vex me,
to make me cry in anguish,
to make me grimace in pain.

my days give birth to you,
but it is I who nurture you,
with my deepest thoughts,
my hate and anger and grief.

there are days when I can ignore you,
belittle you and humiliate you,
but there are days when I simply cannot,
and during those days much pain you have brought.

if I could but identify you,
trap you under the cold light of day,
perhaps then I would finally know you,
and learn how I could get away.

but that seems an impossibility,
a reminder of my ever-present frailty,
how I find it so difficult to be happy,
but readily open my arms towards dear misery.

Categories: prose and poetry
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