I lift myself high above the mountains of pain
Grazing my knees on the way, just to walk took great strength
And to breath, broken ribs and bruised lungs
Burning my throat with every gasp
Muscles aching and mind flying
With all things that happened that
Broke. Me. Down
I rose from the dust that I was turned to
Breaking free from the chains I put on myself
I'm free from it all
My hands burn in victory as I make the last push
So when I look across the field and soak in the morning dew
The rising sun with a light orange hue
I'll shout, heart pounding, victorious
~I made it
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Hopeless Poet
PoetryI write about the world. Her, him, the places of meaning, aggression, compassion, or human nature. TRIGGER WARNING !! some poems talk about s*elf harm and su*cide. Please do not read if you are sensitive to such topics. I will try to put a trigger...
