Here I lay,
covered in scrars.
I tried to run,
but couldn't make it far.
I once was pure,
now riddled with stains.
I try to endure,
and forget all this pain.
I ask The Lord
to give me a sign.
That life is worth living,
that it isn't my time.
I waited and waited,
but no sign was given.
I desperately hope
my final sin is forgiven.
They tell me there's hope,
they tell me hold on,
By I know the truth is
that I'm already gone.
Some may think
that the devil has won.
Yet for once I feel hope,
as I'm loading this gun.
My final words not spoken,
only written in pen.
"Just know that your son
is happy again"
Beauty in the writing of pain
This poem is the first that I had read on this website. I was so moved by it, that I signed up right away. Poets like you are soulful and there is meaning behind every line and stanza. I was so supprised at the talent of this poem that no poem I have read after this one even compares to this work of art.
Find yourself~
this is such a powerful
this is such a powerful piece. the demons will take hold of vulnerability and you have to own yourself. being strong means not needing anyone but it doesnt mean shutting them out. what a complicated mess it all is. I choose to live. pain is my friend and it helps me grow as long as I dont let it shape me and I pour it out in the designs I make. I hope people reading this do not get the idea that sucide is the answer. healing is possible. hugss.
Don't let any one shake your dream stars from your eyes, lest your soul Come away with them! -SS
"Well, it's love, but not as we know it."