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Of Swords And Shields

Poetry

In a way, life can be poetic, every sound smell or look. Everything is poetry, just like the scene of the girl standing amongst the fallen soldiers with a sword and a shield. • a c o l l e c t i o n o f p o e m s•

#anxiety #chronicillness #dark #depression #happiness #life #light #low #nomore #poems #prose #rain #sad #self #selflove #sick #thosedaysintherain #wattys2018

Bang Pang Bang

29 3 1

by the-llama

by the-llama

Bang,
Pang,
Bang.

Over and over,
Again and again,
Wondering if it'll ever stop.

Bang,
Pang,
Bang.

As if it was the rythm to her body,
It goes on, and on,
Over, and over,
Again and again.

Bang,
Pang,
Bang.

Was it the beat of her heart,
Or the pain in her gut,
She didn't know,
All she could feel was the constant pain
Bring her to her knees

Bang
Pang
Bang

Over and over,
Again an again,
Over and over,
Again and again.

The beat of her body,
Beating her down,
As if she was a nail getting hammered into place,
Bang
Pang
Bang.

Bang,
Pang,
Bang.

No! She screamed
Over the feelings,
Over the invisible noises, and pain that they seemed not to understand.

No.
She had enough.

Enough with the constant
Bang
Pang
Bang.
Enough, with the pain,
Pain,
PAIN!

Yet she could not stop the rythm,
As if it was programmed into her body,
Programmed into her mind,
The word pain filling her senses with
A bang,
Pang,
And bang.

Over, and over
Again, and again.

Never ceasing to end.
Never seeming to stop.