Sunday, March 26th, 2017

zimena: A stack of books (Misc - Books)
This is the first time I'm posting a poem to this journal unfiltered. Not because this is an especially good poem (I'm not making any claims there. Besides, I'm not adhering to any strict poetic rules or anything - this is just me experimenting with writing what comes to mind), but mostly just because this is such a familiar feeling to me, and I wanted to share it with others even though it might sound strange.

Pieces of broken glass

I’m not trying to look strong.
Or pretend that everything is
Perfectly normal and okay.
I’m just trying to deal with life,
Day by day.
Yet, sometimes
I hear a scream.
Too real; I’m always surprised
That others cannot hear it, too.
It feels so clear.
So physical.
So tangible
That I had to learn from experience
That it’s all inside of me.
It’s silent, yet ear-splitting.
If my insides were made out of crystal
They would crack,
And then break,
At that sound.
That makes no sense, though.
So all I can do is
Try to mend the cracks
And pick up the pieces of broken glass.
Until next time.

September 2017

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