Poetry competition CLOSED 28th April 2012 6:57am
WINNER
Page_Writer (Mad Girl)
Page_Writer (Mad Girl)
RUNNERS-UP:
firedaughter
and Cinny
The Fear Within
I fear I will end up
Just like her..
Making the same mistakes
And going unheard
Staring with the pot
And ending with the blade
Happiness she couldn't find
Sorrow wouldn't fade
I am her daughter
Created out of the ash
But I know already
There are things I want to take back
If I could go back
And undo those things
I could turn around the hands of time
And take back the sorrow I bring
I see the tears
In my sisters eyes
When she sees the blood
And i'm out of lies
My fear..
Unlike any other..
Is that I will turn out to be
Just.Like.My.Mother.
Just like her..
Making the same mistakes
And going unheard
Staring with the pot
And ending with the blade
Happiness she couldn't find
Sorrow wouldn't fade
I am her daughter
Created out of the ash
But I know already
There are things I want to take back
If I could go back
And undo those things
I could turn around the hands of time
And take back the sorrow I bring
I see the tears
In my sisters eyes
When she sees the blood
And i'm out of lies
My fear..
Unlike any other..
Is that I will turn out to be
Just.Like.My.Mother.
The Truman Show
On days when there are no nightmares-no gunshots
no feeling of sinking in quicksand-or falling from
red skies-with vast space acting a safety net
I just start to wilt like an unused cliché
hating-hurting-hated-hurt-hollow-hung-over
I stand under the shower-let the water
wash me over which it does and then
there is always the monotony of
water rolling down in trickles
and the body stops feeling it
and it gets tedious just to
stand erect facing the walls
the-same-old-goddamn-walls-with
the-same-old-cheap-tiles-almost opaque-
not even offering a faint glimpse of
my beaten-swollen-bluesy face
and after a point the water gets inside
my eyes and the tears just duck somewhere
probably due to a difference in osmotic
pressure or whatever and it starts to
burn-upon opening-on closing and that
is usually the time to get out which
I almost always do-wiping myself clean
on the way back to the bedroom
I stand naked in front of the mirror
bloat my stomach and try to disgust
myself and I often end up admiring
something or the other and that disgusts
me even more which usually solves the problem
I play some sleaze-probably Rochelle from 90's
jack off-whimper-shiver-cower and the tears are
usually back by then but there is no place to hide
I try to feign my interest in reading some book
probably a guide to make slipknots or something
by Mishima or Houcellbecq or even Debord
most of the times I end up reading-some pages
before I feel an urge to hurt myself and then
I usually switch on my cell phone and watch the
text messages pour in-surprising me with their
inflow-as the moment I expect them to stop one more
gets in-like the stronger sperms in the white muck
I immediately get a call and after an exchange of
expletives the sobs kick in-premature and then
there is every possible effort to hush and baby
Often it feels spectacular but sometimes it is
just too much to take down the throat and then
more abuses-a dead line-a broken phone-a smile
Hyperventilated from the ensuing melodrama
I start my computer-update my status-like what they
have to say-offer-on everything-anything at all
I share my opinion-like-then try to strike up
something-resembling a borderline conversation
most of the times it's just an exchange of
emoticons which become almost too predictable
after a time and then the girls invariably ask
if everything's alright and then-
that's-just-about-it-always
Damn women-pushy-probing-curious
nosy-lovely-wanting-caring-loving
so where does that leave me-probably
a murky-smelly place smelling like
a storage room for rotting road kill
and feeling like a comfort zone-may be.
