My junior high English teacher once told us that if you ever feel lonely, sad, or unheard, writing how you feel is a great way to release those emotions.
I came across this old poem I wrote when I was at my lowest, at the time, I felt like my world stopped spinning. Nothing was working in my favor, I was burnt out, and I completely stopped doing the things I was passionate about. I can’t say that I don’t feel the same way sometimes up until now, but I wrote this to describe my emotions. To somehow find clarity in this world full of blurriness, sure it’s somewhat cringe, but it’s real. It came straight from my heart. And if you’re struggling, I kindly suggest doing the same. Here’s the poem:
Seasons come and pass me by,
Each month pricking like a thorn,
Each day, each second, brings to mourn,
So long the stems, so woody, so succulent,
Wraps me around, brings me where is meant,
To an abyss which is the soil,
Where its roots lie and leaves I to spoil,
So deep, so vast, and profound,
The beauty of nothing and everything in the ground,
And as the thorns prickle, dismember, wound every joint and flesh,
Maybe for others they will bloom as fresh,
And next July that will pass me by,
I stay the only flower withered and dry.
