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The Black Forest

Part 1

By Richard WillisPublished 4 years ago 2 min read
1

The sun rises, and through my window, starts to shine

But nothing takes to color

Light does not reach these eyes of mine.

This place has nary iron bar,

No Gatekeeper to keep me inside.

Yet each step I take,

Is heavy with my mistakes.

Shackled to my past, I stay imprisoned in my mind.

Brushing my teeth, I see myself in the mirror

My expression is not the joyful kind,

as I can still hear her,

The friend I'd give it all to see one last time.

"You've lost your reason, You've lost your pride"

Aloud, I thought I was thinking

but the one speaking

Grabbed my face from behind the glass and dragged me inside.

Before me is a vast forest painted in pantomime.

A voice echoes from beyond the branches.

Creatures venture out in contorted, crooked stances

each muttering indictments against my crimes.

Covering my ears,

dodging their grasp, I run in fear

sitting beneath a tree in silent tears,

trying to fathom how I got here.

In front of me, there sits a puddle,

at the bottom of what was once a lake,

in the midst sat a large stone,

I could neither move nor break.

I touched the inscription upon it,

The Forest made a miserable tone

my eyes began to water

pain echoed from beneath my flesh, the center of my bones

Kneeling in the puddle, I wept aloud, for I felt so alone.

I then realize that this is a place I've known

this stone is marked with her name...

In the water, words began to float and glow.

This water is the well from which my rhymes used to flow.

This place sits deep inside.

Even should you pierce my hide,

I couldn't show you where this Forest resides.

And by rules I can neither fathom nor break,

by which I can only abide

I write this story to the world, scared, tired, and trapped inside.

I can hear them coming!

Into the darkness, I start running,

Yet still, I am surrounded by enemies.

Their laughter meshes stirring up old memories,

Filling my heart with regrets that threaten to be the death of me.

My own voice shouting "I could have done better!"

In this fight to survive, I myself am the enemy

If I am to come out alive, I have to set myself free.

But I do not listen, no matter how much I plea.

Almost as if the Forest knows

My cries for help come back as distorted echoes

And the creatures follow the screams.

I hide beneath a tree's roots,

cursing myself for how pathetic I seem.

From the leaves of the ground a small shimmer

brush away the dirt, a shining gleam.

A hint from above, a hobby I used to love

Lay here forgotten in form of a sword.

And so began this quest against myself,

A defeat I cannot afford.

surreal poetry
1

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