Writing Prompt
POEM STARTER
Write a poem on the theme of returning.
You could write about returning to a physical place, or a more metaphorical meaning of this theme.
Writings
Rock Bottom
I thought I had Set myself free From my endless Downward spiral, But deep down, I knew I would Return.
I already hit Rock bottom Once, But now it’s Twice? Quite absurd.
Stuck in a world of overbearing darkness Where nightmares rule And negative thoughts linger.
Back at rock bottom, Spiraling down, Down, Down.
Down I go, Returning to my world of suffering To a hellish extent.
It was a mistake, Thinking I was Free, For the darkness to, It knew I would return. And it was right… I was wrong…
Returning to hell was Inevitable.
Memories And Places
Places hold memories Big and small
Go back and revisit them
Relive and move on
Don’t get stuck in the past But remember to reflect
Learn from your experiences The good and the bad
Don’t bottle and cage Your disgraces
Don’t focus solely on falls But see them
Never forget any of them For you need them
Returned
The feeling has returned, The nostalgic dread again weighs me down, And I am drowning d r o w i n g. I cannot reach above, nor do I want to. I will sink in this darkness, Let the pain fill my lungs. I wish I could forget this feeling; I wish it never returned. But, alas, I must endure it again, only this time I will not hope that happiness will ever return.
From The Start
Broken hearted from the start, but you’re acting kinda smart. It’d be better if we’re apart cause I was broken from the start.
I will see it, I will grow. But deep down I will always know, this wound will never close. I will hurt you, then you’ll go.
You can see it in my eyes, you can read through all my lies. I’ve been broken all this time, you can see it in my eyes.
And then I’ll end up all alone. It’s a fate I’ve always known. Broken hearted from the start It’s better now that we’re apart.
Frail And Able
Standards to never be met And too ridiculous to expect.
Paths predetermined But never prewilled by the doer.
Life is fragile yet so fulfilled.
Simpler times were meant for me. Simpler times were meant for this.
Not “perfect bodies”, salaries, and accolades out the wazoo.
But pretty imperfect moments made by imperfect people to make memories.
Are people crap sometimes yeah, Do they mess up sometimes, Maybe even a lot. Mmhmm
But it's just like that Moment, Maybe even now. But a time when brightness shined brightly on everyone.
Your eyes deeming everyone innocent till guilty.
Eyes that give yourself a chance before saying no.
Eyes that don't let go of something so precious so quickly.
Holding on to that toy, feather, friend, family, experience, or hobby, a little longer.
I've been, and so many others have had a lot.
Know better do better always, But don't “know more”, and frail away,
🦋~ for that will only perish who you truly are.
alpas
there’s an angel on earth (an impartial observer) come to witness the folly of humanity to watch, unsleeping, unbreathing, unliving (it forgets itself) it sees the dapple of light through leaves and the rippling of fresh river water and (it forgets itself). it goes to sleep.
she wakes up to an unbearable weight. the world itself sits on her chest and calls her to the stand, in a court of outdated history, the judge bears a gavel of convention and the jury hides behind masks of tradition, they deem her unworthy. millions of eyes open (millions of eyes close) she does not want to see.
she wakes up to blood staining the sheets, buried deep under her nails, flushed down an unsympathetic toilet, she takes a pill to dull the pain. she takes a pill to dull the pain. she takes a pill to dull the pain. her mind writhes and seethes but she must remain emotionless. in the mirror her halo drips red.
she wakes up empty, her shadow screams in anguish (something is missing) her mouth doesn’t move. she makes no sound. to be human is to be holy. (to be human is to be forsaken)
(where are her wings?) (where are her wings?) (where are her wings?)
it will never fly again
(alpas [v.]- to become free; to break loose)
alpas
there’s an angel on earth (an impartial observer) come to witness the folly of humanity to watch, unsleeping, unbreathing, unliving
(it forgets itself)
it sees the dapple of light through leaves and the rippling of fresh river water and (it forgets itself). it goes to sleep.
she wakes up to an unbearable weight. the world itself sits on her chest, calls her to the stand, in a court of outdated history, the judge bears a gavel made of convention and the jury hides behind masks of tradition, they deem her unworthy. millions of eyes open (millions of eyes close) she does not want to see.
she wakes up to blood staining the sheets, buried deep underneath her nails, flushed down the unsympathetic toilet. she takes a pill to dull the pain. she takes a pill to dull the pain. she takes a pill to dull the pain. her mind writhes and seethes but she must remain emotionless. in the mirror her halo drips red.
she wakes up empty, her shadow screams in anguish (something is missing) her mouth doesn’t move. she makes no sound. to be human is to be holy. (to be human is to be forsaken)
(where are her wings?) (where are her wings?) (where are her wings?)
it will never fly again
(alpas [v.]- to become free, to break loose)