My heart mourns today.
I need to clean out my thoughts.
They’re made of old dust.
My wings feel so heavy now.
Made of steel and rust.
Rust comes from rotten decay.
Pure anger scalds me.
I refuse to lift my head.
I pray for the day.
I pray for the end of pain.
Specifically mine.
Darkness is my clear path now.
I miss the light path.
I wish I had the answers.
The answers to heal.
I wish for a fuller heart.
My needs are endless.
My halo excretes old sludge.
My head feels heavy.
The chicken scratch surrounds me.
They reflect my thoughts.
This world is cold.
I feel cold all on my own.
Icy hands and feet.
Burning heat from within me.
When will this game end?
I am forever immortal.
This was not my choice.
But the anger was my choice.
There’s no turning back.
Forward march my friend.
-Alex
3 replies on “Anger Written on Pages”
This is a beautiful poem. Melancholy in a way that made me feel determined. “This was not my choice./ But the anger was my choice.” That particular part really resonated with me. I guess that’s where the determination feeling comes from. It makes me think about the choices I will make this upcoming year. Thank you for sharing this.
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You’re more than welcome Jeanette. I’m so glad that you were able to resonate with this. I’ve been reflecting a lot over the past few months and have put every ounce of effort in everything I do. I put all of my raw energy, especially anger into my art. ❤
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The energy comes through, powerful emotions tend to make powerful art 🙂
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