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Pit of Doom

Mistakes cannot be unmade

By Anna TorresPublished 21 days ago Updated 21 days ago 2 min read
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Pit of Doom
Photo by Nima Mohammadi on Unsplash

Memories of us are just hazy and incoherent. A myriad of conflicting personalities and pretentiousness. This is the end of all verses that have run of fuel. We have reached the pinnacle of martyrdom. I wanted you to try as much as I did but that proved to be out of your reach. I always strained more and further out than your body ever could. Our engine ran on hope and four flat tires. Our locomotive couldn't find the best route so we drove blind anyways. It's like you threw us down into this pit and wondered why I kept trying to escape. I wanted you to want to escape with me. To change every flaw in your corrupted design and be what you were supposed to be. Heaven forbid we change ourselves to accommodate who we claimed to love. Isn't that what love is supposed to be? How could I have accepted you as you were when I couldn't even accept myself? There's no hand reaching me to help me out of here. In order to get out, you descended and dug even deeper. You found the coward's way out and I salute you for it. Leaving me in this doom forced me to introspect. What could I do differently that I ever tried before? Why can't I just accept your resignation and be at peace with your departure? No, I must prove to myself that your retirement from this hell would not be the end of me. Just because you absconded into the twilight does not mean I was going to wait for you until dawn. I have renounced my oath and am loyal only to myself now. My memory will eventually forsake you but for now, this abdication is what drives me forward. No magical staircase was built but a rope was painstakingly made to climb out of here. This pit of doom no longer has any room for me. It has weakened its jaws and released its grip on me. You can make a prisoner out of someone else. I am no longer willing to be that sacrifice anymore. The void that is you got left behind. I can't hear your echoes anymore, I will pay them no mind

Mental Healthsurreal poetrysad poetryperformance poetryinspirationalheartbreakFree Verse
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About the Creator

Anna Torres

I’m a 37-year old mother. I love reading, metal music, and writing. I have begun writing again since 2021

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  • BrettNotGreg21 days ago

    Love this!

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