Poem: Behind closed doors.

[lemanya]

It's the only poem I've ever written, and is most likely to stay that way because I'm very bad at poetry. It was written a few years ago when I was in a very dark place, which I think pretty much makes me a tortured author.
Originally posted at a fiction community, where it received (if I remember correctly) good reviews (which gives me the courage to upload it here).

 

 

The world stops turning for a moment,

brief,

an exclamation of resistance against the

brutality of my mind.

It is here, in my own darkness,

alone,

that I feel the desperation of my soul

seaching for happiness.

I start each day with a wish,

cruel,

im which my eyes reflect the ebony of feeling,

and the death of the sun.

So what happens next? when left to

torture,

the dim light of artificial smiles

a constant reminder of the void.

I can see her there, a black hole of the earth,

existing,

but unwanted, unnnoticed, misundertood.

Is that it then? When the footfalls of

humanity

provide a basis of fear of the discovery

of the tarnished secret?

Our Father, who art in heaven,

a plea

whereby I renounce who I am

in favour of destruction.

I've begged, I've screamed, I've

sacrificed

every manner that I own in search of hope,

of truth, of enlightenment.

So this is it, when I become a

shadow

of my former self, lying to the rest of life,

only pure behind closed doors.