I woke up yesterday thinking of the date November is full of memories Not ones I regret But yet just shots of life And something we could call death
This taste of sorrow And yet life again taking control Pushing us on the road The one we would like to avoid From a distance it looks lonely And dark and gloomy But once we are on We could see lights Multicolor sparkles on the side Colorful papers lanterns illuminating the sky And people walking too With dreams deceived and new ones to draw People like us trying hard And having faith in something big enough To make them want to keep going
In a whisper
I was gone
Like a ghost
I hurtled down the stairs
It was over
Shots of pain
Across my heart
I was never yours
You just thought
You could stole
Parts of my soul
In the street that night
The pieces of my life
The chance to put them back together
And find myself again!
I know that nothing can change nor erase the violence of that special night. It’s there forever. It’s part of me as good memories are too. It was for so long a night I would recall with fear. The words, the scene, the threats.
It was tough and yet, thank God, it was, or I would have never left. I would have came back, despite the mess, despite the nonsense, despite me becoming a stranger to myself. And it would have been tragic!
This night gave me the chance to start anew. Sometimes the best is hidden in the most dangerous places.
This is my piece of poetry as part of Writing Prompt proposed by Mona.
Because you were told
That others count, before you
That others were, more important than you
You lost touch with the world within
The time will come to recover your strenght
And to be Magnificient again!
It struck me recently. This life, building undergrounds, searching to get out and breath. And yet building more, as if walking without something between me and the sky, between me and the bright light, was too fearful.
So I kept finding ways to escape. I kept running out of energy in search of something I would not even dare to catch.
It sounds a bit crazy. And yet it makes complete sense when I think about it, when I take a glimpse at what I grew up with…
The idea that life and struggle come together. So if I am at peace, I may die. And I don’t want to die. So I stay in darkness, I stay in this place where I need to fight and fight back to stay alive. Every battle is a blessing, a chance given to me to live. One more day.
I don’t want to build any more tunnels, I wish to walk a new road…