with only enough strength left
to let go.
no more thinking
the simple action of uncurling the fingers,
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.