And there I stood
Staring at the beautiful symphony
A beautiful mix of love and disgust
A written depiction of what it means to be lost
This figure of immerse pressure
This house of cracks and flowers
This manifestation of mental torture
Staring at this figure who was stripped of his powers
Physical representation of ups and downs
Shuffling between smiles and frowns
Floating whilst trying not to drown
How can he be safe and unsound?
And as I stare, I am motivated to help
I am tempted to suit up with my rescue gear
The one I wear to help those in need
Doesn't matter if I have to bruise my knee
And there I stood
Stretching my arms out to help this being
I mean I see no reason why not, he's just a kid
Only to realize it was a reflection, that kid was me.
About the Creator
Harydo Neon
I drain my thoughts through my pen. That's the only way I breathe.
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More stories from Harydo Neon and writers in Poets and other communities.
Twisting Through the Doorways
A grand bronze-coloured staircase leads nowhere. It is adorned in dim and sensual lights, the golden glimmer of the chandelier adding elegance and richness to the room. This is the biggest room in the unknown home. A house made of multi-sized doors leading to multi-dimensional rooms. Some exist in daylight, some exist sideways against child-like postered walls.
By Oneg In The Arctic3 days ago in Horror
Comments (1)
This was so emotional. Loved your poem!