(written on November 11, 2023, at 3:20 AM) (trigger warning about sa and suic*de)
Gliding upon the vacant trees.
A cold autumn breeze;
It carries a leaf flowing in space in time.
A child was born,
Crying as though they knew of the hell they entered.
The leaf flew by,
Kicked by a harsh wind,
The child sat in a dark room,
As empty as their stomach,
Nothing but a single mattress and mirror.
The reflection of a kid covering their ears,
As the elders argued downstairs day after year.
The leaf breezed by the decaying house,
Scratching the shards from the broken glass window,
Tearing off a little piece of itself.
The teen looked at themselves in the mirror,
Which now sat shattered.
Tears rolling down the bruised-up face,
Stomach still in agony,
Blood dripping down their legs.
Mattress run through,
The punched-out walls sitting as the only proof in time,
Blood covered the mattress,
The teen unable to speak nor wail,
Only sound was of the tears dropping dead on the ground,
War has gone down.
The father stood beside the door,
The evilest grin on his disgusting face.
The wrinkled leaf flew by quicker tearing itself in half.
The person sat in the subway as though on display,
All evil smiles and eyes on the broken trophy,
Bloody handprints going up their thighs,
A tear fell down,
Then many followed.
All sound went mute,
All they heard was years of screaming, arguing,
Moans of evil pleasure murdering their childhood,
It all kept getting louder and louder till they let out the loudest scream for the first time,
As if all those times they couldn't speak just morphed into one.
The person ran off the subway,
Screams everywhere,
The eyes everywhere,
Each evil grin was laughing.
They saw a leaf fly by which was so withered,
So broken and torn,
About to fall any second.
The person had a rush of blood escape their neck,
Their skin coming in,
It was all almost all too pleasing,
The first time with a sense of control of what happened.
No screams,
No eyes,
No hands,
No evil grins.
The first time that they've felt peace,
The first smile escaped.
The old hell being left behind.
The knot was tightened,
The last step taken,
Off the stool.
The last breath escaped from smile,
A look of relief,
The happiest ending in their head.
The leaf flew by the peaceful body,
It lay as though a Renaissance painting,
The leaf turning into dust,
Scattering over them in mourn.
-Alana Gagieva
YOU ARE READING
Grimoire Of Poems
Short StorySo this was more for myself than anything to put together for fun. But I have a deep route in writing poems when I'm bored and was a big Edgar Allan Poe fan in middle school. I think that says enought, most of these are sad and some will have trigge...
