I wrote this poem in philosophy this year, with the focus relating to person hood and what it means to live the good life. I decided to write this because I think in many way, I often feel like I want to call for a ceasefire. This isn’t a happy poem, it’s raw, and very filled with emotion that has been personified and has lots of vivid imagery. It plays a lot with how society treats us and what is often expected. Fair warning, this isn’t something to read when in a sensitive state of mind.
She’s been told, the power of the pen is stronger than the sword.
Words scribble actions across the page,
Write a story of a life,
This whole world struggles to understand.
This tiny bit of humanity,
What’s left and surrounds her
It’s not about living anymore,
It’s about trying to be alive.
Purpose she says, I have mine,
She’s learning instead of thriving,
She needs to focus on surviving.
That the dream world she thought of
Is truly a reality where she’s barely afloat
Pieces of her float around, clinging by threads to what’s left of this
That’s what she is right. Flesh…
Where her dreams and future don’t matter to you,
Just the prospect of how she can assist you
I’m ok, she whispers as you toss her aside
I’ll get back up she’ll say, as she melted to the ground.
Long to be normal again.
To thrive instead of struggle to survive.
She knows where she wants to be,
Or at least, where she is running to.
That road is far ahead.
Her comfort in the journey is people who walk beside her
Often though, she walks alone.
Her life is destined for something greater
Reminding herself she does,
That ending all this won’t get her somewhere
The struggle is worth the pain
But she’s tired of surviving, She wants to thrive
The scars make her beautiful
They chiseled away to make this survivor.
She’s built upon battle grounds
Where the sword has all the power.
But something deep within her,
Opened up the chasm.
A quiet voice called out
Amongst the battle cries
She cried out to those around her,
The depression drowning her soul,
I have a reason I’m here, she said.
The fog engulfs me,
I am not some doll.
The sword may scar my body,
But your words rip at me too
Please let go and wander
Far from the battle grounds.
To far off mountain peaks
To rivers silvery blue.
The power of your words
Has shaped her simple view
She’s deemed herself unworthy
A soldier born to wander.
She’s tired of surviving, she wishes she could thrive.
She’s not living anymore, she’s simply just alive.