A poem close to my heart. Written based upon my experience in attempted suicide, that, thankfully, was stopped by the Good Lord. Hope you enjoy and take in the meaning behind the words.
Battle
of Good and Evil
In these times my heart sinks, my mind is
filled with dread
Sorrow clouds all my thoughts; my lips can
no longer smile
Tears pour down my anguished face as I see
the pain of others
My gut is filled with knots and turns from
my terrible angst
Trembling I hit the cold ground, weak from
desperate sorrow
My feet and legs have lost all will to hold
my heavy weight
Hands that no longer hold or grasp; arms
that no longer lift
Helplessness fills my very being, unable to
give aide
Screams fill my aching ears, my eardrums
threatening to burst
Blood encompasses my nostrils, burning
itself into my brain
Bitterness lights itself on my tongue,
torturing my taste buds
Sourness rapes my mind, forcing its way
into my memory
All hope seems lost, faith ebbs, disappearing
like smoke
Darkness encompasses the very existence of
humanity
Storm clouds fill the sky, swirling in
bitter angry circles
The wind whips furiously, dust tears
harshly at my face
Death is immanent, roaring like a black
train in the night
But wait, all hope may not be lost, some
may yet remain
Light bursts through the darkness, piercing
the cloud’s heart
Thunder is silenced and lightning out shone
by the sunlight
Cutting wind is calmed, replaced with a
peaceful silence
The sourness in my memory, overthrown with
joyful throngs
The bitterness on my tongue turns to a
beautiful sweetness
Scents of flowers creeps into my nostrils,
replacing the blood
Joyful cries burst through the screams,
ears leaping for joy
Strength comes to my limbs as I push to my
feet again
Hands grabbing my sword, arms lifting them
high in the air
My gut now untangles its knots, jumping
back to life again
Tears of joy rain down my face, glittering
in the sun’s rays
A smile breaks my solemn lips, my heart
pumping excitedly
We have been freed from our dreadful,
painful sorrows
Hope is restored; victory is within our
straining grasps
Victory means survival, survival is to live
another day
To live another day, is to laugh in the face of
immanent death
Thanks for reading. Hope this poem can mean as much to you all as it means to me. As always let me know your thoughts in the comments and feel free to share, just give credit where credit is due.
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