Tears fall down my face
Like a windshield wiper hitting all the rain away.
I let it stream down my face,
It touches the floor.
If only people could see
My tears sprout into dark roses
With thick vines growing out of the ground.
I want to be seen, heard, and felt,
But my house is set on fire.
How can anything grow
When a house isn't a home.
Looking at the remnants of what is left,
I want to scream feeling the vines
Wrap around my arms like armor.
I want the love that surrounds me
Watching him leave
To have more people come into my life
When I need it the most.
I want to run until the end of time,
Feeling the ground weaken but I won't fall.
I have hope sweet as honey,
And a soul that won't break,
Knowing I have survived all of the abuse,
That's more than any pictures of him
Burned in the damned house.
My anger rages more than the gasoline spilt,
It transforms into the determination
Of having a fresh start
Without him.
In my veins I have the words
S t r e n g t h and r e s i l i e n c e
Etched into my arm.
Knowing I can survive any battle
And any fight
Coming my way...
YOU ARE READING
Melancholy - poem
PoetryEnjoy well written poetry that is relatable for many, in short or long entries each chapter. It is sad, motivating, and breathtaking to read with each part relating to things I've been through and others have been through too. It's a well worth it r...
