original; poem

Date: 2012-05-30 03:34 am (UTC)


“It’s getting old,” you murmur,
Leaning into me.
The rain pounds against the windows
And the lights go out and still,
You only slip to the ground
And whimper.

Day slips into day,
One moment after another.
Stress and fights with your parents;
Trying to figure out life
And not drown along the way.

The thoughts get tempting,
Even as they disgust you.
“I’m not that way,” you declare
Into the silence.

Brighter days come,
You depend on less and less.
You bucked up and decided,
“Forget it all. I’m moving on.”

But you’re back again.
Back where you’ve been for too long.
You write words on the whitewash,
Lyrics and thoughts and pouring out feelings
That reveal your struggle,
Your pain,
Your tenacity.

You sing now, too. Sing your heart out.
Defiance and sorrow and heartbreak,
A tenacious hold, a broken heart, a little less…
Hope. You always spoke of hope.
It’s heard less and less now;
Too much disappointment; too many letdowns.

Your friends have left you;
Tensions strain and hiss and cackle, crackle,
Snap! Pop! Between you and family.

You keep it all bottled up, though.
“People don’t listen,” you shrug.
Your secrets sink a little deeper in,
Because no one’s listening.
But it’s not like you don’t share them;
It’s not like you don’t whisper them…
It’s not like they aren’t revealed
Moment after moment.

“I just want to get by.”
“Please don’t forget about me.”
“I’ll be fine…I have to be.”
“Hey…I’m still here.”
Nobody hears but me.

But as you close the door,
Slide down the wall,
You know I will never speak
Of the times you’ve been weak.

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