To Grow Old
The violence and pain of aging.
I taste the blood of my youth,
Coppery soot and rotten truth
All mix in my mouth to scream
I feel gravel bite at my seam.
Right into my core with each
Bellow that breaks from reach
Of their pounding fist and hungry
Hands that with me do not agree.
I hear my wailing cry like a siren
Echoed back as a laughing grin
Jeers over me to haunt my wake,
And my childhood it does take
To drown deep within the river
And to me adulthood deliver.
They shove deeper, harder,
Rip from me my daughter.
I see dirt pressed into my cheek.
To death do I knock and seek?
And shadows lumber near
Like monsters to appear
Before dreams spill to sunlight
That may chase away the night.
But, no day is to come
Far, they blot out the sun.
Their hands are at my elbow,
Whispering of what is below.
I smell the curse of putrid rot
And lose the last of my thought.
About the Creator
Laura Lann
I am an author from deep East Texas with a passion for horror and fantasy, often heavily mixed together. In my spare time, when I am not writing, I draw and paint landscape and fantasy pieces. I now reside in Alaska where adventures await.
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More stories from Laura Lann and writers in Poets and other communities.
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Comments (4)
This is amazing. Congratulations. It really becomes a painful struggle. Internally and externally.
You gave terror and angst and growing pains such color and feel. What a beautiful poem that just takes on its own shape. This is what poetry should do, and this is how it should shake and captivate us. Well done! Congratulations!
Oh nicely done!! Congratulations!
I think this might be my favourite. Congratulations.