Shitty Poems

Caught In A Storm

When you're caught at sea in a storm,

You are hanging on for dear life

As you are tossed around by malicious waves,

Gazing up at a dark, overcast sky

And blinking the rain and tears out of your eyes,

Being deafened by thunder

And blinded by lightning,

Hearing the howl of violent wind

And feeling it's sharp cut as it whips past you.

When your tiny life boat overturns

And succumbs underneath the waves,

You are fighting against the water for air

And desperately trying to get back onto your lifeboat,

All the while knowing that this could be the end

And all the while fighting to prevent that.

When you wash up onto dry land,

The sun and sand feel surreal,

You don't recognise the calm waters

Didn't the sea try to drown you,

Just a little while before?

Or did the waters succeed?

Is this heaven?

And if so,

How come you are being hit with overwhelming emptiness.

Because you are alone.

Or is this hell?

But can hell look this beautiful?

You are confused and have a feeling of emptiness.

Confused whether you're still alive,

Confused whether you want to find out,

Confused about what to do now?

Similarly,

When you are caught at sea in a storm of emotions,

Fighting to stay above the water,

Fighting to keep your head up and eyes open,

And then suddenly everything comes to a stop,

What do you do now?

You're alone on an island.

You can't talk about it

Because you can't explain anything

And even if you could,

Who would listen or understand?

Is not feeling anything heaven or hell?

And how do you know you're still alive?

At least when you were feeling,

Although sobs would shake your body,

And panic would make you dizzy,

And tears would mix with blood,

At least the blood told you that you were alive.

Sometimes you just need to bleed

To know you're still alive.

Sometimes you need to reach into your heart

Just to know that it is still beating.

But as I watch blood drip down my arm,

I don't feel a thing.

Is it better this way?

I can't get hurt this way, right?

But even people with CIPA can die.

And what good do I do to this world?

Even here, on my imaginary island

I am a waste of time and space.

Although I am scared of some concepts in death,

And the thought that we never really existed

Shakes me to the bone,

Sometimes I feel that it is better

If I never existed in the first place.

And all my experiences are illusions.

At least the only person's time wasted

Was my own.

A.N. Ummmm yea. I can't use punctuation other than commas apparently.

OH YEAH so CIPA is Congenital Insensitivity to Pain with Anhidrosis. So like, ppl who have it can't experience pain or heat or any nerve-related sensations. (is CIPA a trigger?? Do I need to put trigger warnings??? Because I've mentioned suicide-related things in this poem dump I think)
Also the pic is a falsettos meme (((it's a rly good musical)))