Just A Small Rant

via Daily Prompt: Instinct

I don’t share my grief with people.

Call it instinct. Or call it pride.

Show of sympathy by others when I’m grieving is just that – a show. “I understand what you’ve been through…” No, you don’t. You are just trying to make me feel better, which I appreciate, but the words you speak are as genuine as Donald Trump’s tan.

When I’m grieving, leave me to myself. If you want to help, make a cup of tea.

Don’t give me the “There is a life after death”, “It was meant to be” bullshit. Please.

I may not be an adult, but that doesn’t mean you need to dumb down serious things like death for me. If it hurts, it hurts. No two ways about it.

I like my tablets like I like my words – without sugarcoating.

 

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Landing

Landing

That’s pretty deep.

Because it’s not the fall that kills you, Sherlock. Of all people, you should know that, it’s not the fall, it’s never the fall. It’s the landing!

– Jim Moriarty from Sherlock

Life.

Cruising.

Bones.

Tingling.

Blood.

Racing.

She thought it was flight,

So she flew with delight.

But she soon lost sight

And fell into the night.

Slowly, the rancid smell

Crept up her nose.

Slowly, the claustrophobia,

Swallowed her soul.

With fear in her eyes

And pain in her voice,

She was too late to realise

That she had landed in her pit of lies.

Life.

Crushed.

Bones.

Broken.

Blood.

Flowing.

Heartfelt

Padding my heart with excuses

From the prick of my conscience

Been avoiding this for long

This was equally my fault

As much as it was yours.

Either I have gathered my guts

Or I’m drunk with stupidity

I hate to admit it, but

YES, I was responsible too

For burning down our

Non-existent bridges.

YES, I was the catalyst

Who sped our inevitable fall

Your mistake does not seem

As unforgivable as before

When I compare it with mine.

All those nostalgic days

Tinted with laughter…sigh…

I know we can’t remake our past

But now that it’s all said and done

Will you find it in your heart

To forgive my folly?

 

Reflections

Shaky, unclear, hazy

Memories of what I’ve been.

A little stupid, a little crazy,

The things that I’ve heard and seen.

A small ripple will set them off

Like a bottled up volcano.

But the pain can’t be even reduced by half,

Of the things that I’ve been before.

So as I look at my reflection,

Smiling sadly with her sorrowful eyes,

That girl inside me decides tor run,

Looking for some respite.

Unsure, but confident

That truthfully telling lies,

Will somehow make me not repent

Fleeing from this world of cowardice.

For Poetry 101 Rehab: Reflections

Fresh Page

Every page I turn

Is ripped, torn, or burnt.

Every page I turn

Has nothing new to learn.

The sharp edges

Cut my fingers.

Just a drop of blood

On the destroyed page.

I’m sick of this,

My book of memories.

I’m sick of this,

Want to turn over a new leaf.

And all I have to do

Is gather some courage

To turn over a

Fresh page.

For Poetry 101 Rehab: Decisions

Final Fall

Dropping down a hundred feet

Darkness was all the eyes could meet

Feeling just stuck, hollow and alone

And the fault is my own.

Chilling air, cold decay.

All thoughts just washed away.

Feeling the gravity of all my deeds,

No one to catch me, someone save me please!

I know I’ll be completely shattered on impact

So I brace myself for the bitter fact.

No family, no friends, no one at all,

I’m alone and desperate in my final fall.

Sometimes, falling is the only forward movement in life. In response to Poetry 101 Rehab.

Even if you fall on your face, you’re still moving forward.

-Victor Kiam