I'm walking down the staircase
Made of rickety driftwood
And a red rug in place.
I'm walking down quietly,
But each footstep makes a creak.
I try to breathe silently.
"Just what am I avoiding?"
I suddenly ask myself—
Yet I still keep on moving.
Each step takes me to darkness,
The light is left behind me.
I further step with harshness.
I'm walking down the staircase;
Just who knows where I'm headed?
I start to quicken my pace.
I'm stepping down suddenly.
Soon I'll take two steps a time,
Escaping what's behind me.
I don't want to turn around,
But the darkness is choking—
Then I stop without a sound.
Turning, I now see myself
Standing in a spot of light,
He spoke: "You've done this yourself".
I'm standing on the staircase
Made of rickety driftwood,
An image in my mind's space.
I'm standing there quietly—
A yearning to walk upwards
And a wish to be set free.
With nobody to save myself but me.
Some people wake up
And think of tomorrow;
With minds clear of sorrow.
Some people wake up
And think about today;
Plans and lists ready
To live life their own way.
Some people wake up
And think back yesterday;
With worry-filled hearts—
A hope for better days.
I wake up tired,
And think of years gone by;
This hell gets longer,
My every breath a sigh:
With a single wish to die.
Fade to white
Emotions feel so far away;
Out of mind, out of sight.
I don't think I can fight today,
I'm all that's left to fight.
There's no hope, will I find a way?
If there's a way, I might—
But this darkness is here to stay,
There is no home for light.
My shadows are too deep, yet no ray
Of light, just an endless blight.
My wish is to make them all pay,
And fall from deathly heights;
There's no-one to hurt anyway,
My revenge seems so trite.
This may be my loneliest May,
Just myself left to sleight:
So I'll sit and wait for the day,
'Til there's naught left to write—
And my blackened heart just might fade to white.
Today is far gone;
An afternoon depression.
Congealed thoughts rotting.
She smiled at me once:
A once in a lifetime smile.
The autumn sun sets.
My frozen heart melts
At the sight of a lost love.
lmao who even writes haiku in 2017
i'd usually delete them and stuff like the staircase
but i guess you're only as good as your worst work
so i'll keep it so people can laugh at me or w/e
I stare in the bleakest mirror
Found within my deepest mind,
Brought forth from sleeping dreamscapes—
I looked upon my darkened face
And he stared into my eyes in kind;
My mouth moved in the mirror,
He says to me:
"Why do you trap me in this Hell?"
"I just want to be set free."
"I'm a nice person," he swears.
Dark lips flapping,
"This is hell, and nobody cares,
Loneliness has beset me."
His fist thumps upon the cell,
There's no response that I can give,
My lips feel together sewn,
As he raps the glass once more;
I look down to his hardened jaw—
Had he been there all alone?
With only a wish to leave
He screams at me, begging answers,
But my voice remains silent
As he condemns me of lies
A darkness settles in his eyes,
I can see his mind had bent
And fallen into madness
He slams the cell door again
And again, but it holds through.
The mirror begins to warp;
"This forsaken prison you've wrought
Hides a secret from you too—
See, I'm just a reflection,"
"I came after."
His shrieks broke near into a song,
Those lips tore a smile unkind.
A terrible thought I bore;
I stare into the warped mirror
Found within my broken mind,
It was me trapped all along
With my reflection.
My bed is made for two,
With blankets made for two,
Count the pillows: one, two—
Either side with drawers, too.
Dining table seats two,
With placemats placed for two.
Two couches made for two,
And bookcase split in two.
Two racks for bathroom towels,
Two hooks for shower sponges;
All these things come in two:
Yet I'm here without you.
I've strayed off the road
I'm left all alone
With none to help me.
This path paved in mud
Where nothing can grow:
It's dirt mixed with blood.
My footsteps are slow,
I sink with each step—
But there's no footprints
From where I have left,
And it always stinks.
I struggle onward,
Regret in my heart,
A fence made of swords
Guides me on my path.
There's nothing beyond,
Blades are all I see;
They hum quiet songs:
"Come," they're goading me.
My last attempts failed,
I've crossed them before:
Leaving me impaled,
Wet mud on the floor...
I'll find my way back
By walking ahead,
And if my knees slack
I might lose my head.
I trudge my way forward, lest I fall dead.
i sometimes reference songs i listen to whilst writing
this poem was heavily influenced by this song track
A precious Princess pranced 'pon park play-fields.
This Princess (who was Precious), filled with life,
Ran and ran: her playfulness did not yield
Even through accidents and times of strife.
I wish we'd gone out more, the sun still bright;
Made other friends, she was always alone,
I really only took her out at night.
My biggest regret is leaving her home.
Her shining eyes that were filled with wonder—
That now-blank gaze stares at me listlessly.
Today, I put my best friend to slumber,
And she now sleeps forever painlessly.
Thinking back to the times she was my world,
So I pat her head one last time: "Good girl."
r.i.p my doggo Princess 2005 - 2018.
i wrote this the same day we put her down (22nd may 2018). she lived for about 12 years 9 months, so she wasn't the youngest dog, and she's had a few issues here and there over the years.
couldn't bear to re-read this poem til today, so that's why it's a bit later.
also bit of trivia on the use of "Precious"; my mum actually named her that the first few days we got her, but then changed it to Princess after she noticed how she'd sort of strut around when she got her way lmao
another year gone by
another heavy sigh
another place to be
another home for me
another sing along
another lover's song
another heart beats fast
another love won't last
another page to fill
another dream to kill
another blade pressed down
another emotion drowned
another pain to live
another heart to give
another thoughtless smile
another life-long mile
I'm walking down sunburnt asphalt roads;
Shoe soles too thin, my feet are burning.
Grey clouds in the horizon forebodes
The fall of rain that I am yearning...
... As the clock keeps turning.
I've noticed a trend of things unjust,
Propaganda to make us adjust.
Each one brings me a feel of disgust
And yet none of this can be discussed.
A society that fell to lust,
Men are spoon-fed helpings of distrust
As women's worth crumble to dust:
Mettle of relations turned to rust.
Parenthood sidelined, now not a must,
Yet children used and abused in trust.
A storm is coming, now just a gust—
And I hope I'm around to see it all bust.