with only enough strength left

to let go.

no more thinking


the simple action of uncurling the fingers,

something natural

something instinctual

as if letting go of a flower to float into the wind,

something never meant to be contained in the crush of a human hand.

but this is no flower to me

this is poison

this is pain

this is as if i was holding onto poison ivy

and perhaps i’m overthinking,

and most likely i am,

but either way

this will seem natural

and i know that i will feel lighter

as if a weight is lifted from my shoulders,


back to a better sense of freedom.


That was quite dark, eh? For good reason too. I don’t get what’s going on with what I should do or want to do in university anymore and I’m just confused, frustrated, and stressed. And sleep deprived. As far as I know I’ll look at this tomorrow morning and laugh it off but this is my blog and it’s to capture these moments. It’s therapeutic for me, because I’m taking all the ugliness and confusion I’m in right now into something beautiful, a poem. And even though this is definitely the darkest poem I’ve posted (not the darkest I’ve written though) I’m proud of it. At least I can use what I’m going through for some form of art and perhaps to help others.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s