This Is What Suffering Looks like
It Would Not stop
Tempestuous fires
Seized my heart
Churned my soul
The engine turned
There laid the dragon
Claws on my spirit
Grip with deep crevices
Cracks on skin
I thought I saw paradise
I thought wrong
I thought myself strong
I was lost
And what of my mind
Gone too it was
Yielded to the whispers
Of he whom I shall not name
There laid my body
Sunken, paralyzed
Enthralled by cotton comfort
Spellbound with fatigue
This was no paradise
I was certain
I was
I am
Gone.
Author’s Note: I was inspired to whip this up on a whim after briefly reading paradise lost. One chapter in, and I somehow thought to myself about the theme of regret, suffering. Of being paralyzed. I decided it would be a creative and cathartic experience to pen down what that experience might seem. To convert suffering into an aesthetic form; poetry.
