deepundergroundpoetry.com
Persevere
There is a sadness in the celebration
I’ve made it to thirty years
Joy littered with grief
Experiences dampened by loss
A million miles to time
Memories to an unseeing mind
Thirty years and I’ve only began to feel
Knowing something inside me knew
That blindness was better than remembering
That numbness kept me alive
In year twenty nine I’d made it to safety
In year thirty I am reawakening
And it can be lonely
Feeling like a stranger in my own skin
Will anyone still be there when I become me again
Seventeen years of repression
10 years globetrotting to run away from past versions of myself
Falling for dysfunction
Giving more than I had to spare
Exhaustion and indoctrination
Dying to yourself
There is a heaviness that comes with age
From realization
My youth has vacated
But it left behind all of its emotions
And in year thirty I’m the happiest and hurt I’ve ever been
In year thirty one I might be me again
There is hope in the mourning
I persevere
I’ve made it to thirty years
Joy littered with grief
Experiences dampened by loss
A million miles to time
Memories to an unseeing mind
Thirty years and I’ve only began to feel
Knowing something inside me knew
That blindness was better than remembering
That numbness kept me alive
In year twenty nine I’d made it to safety
In year thirty I am reawakening
And it can be lonely
Feeling like a stranger in my own skin
Will anyone still be there when I become me again
Seventeen years of repression
10 years globetrotting to run away from past versions of myself
Falling for dysfunction
Giving more than I had to spare
Exhaustion and indoctrination
Dying to yourself
There is a heaviness that comes with age
From realization
My youth has vacated
But it left behind all of its emotions
And in year thirty I’m the happiest and hurt I’ve ever been
In year thirty one I might be me again
There is hope in the mourning
I persevere
Published 15th Sep 2024
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15th Sep 2024 11:46am
Awakening is one of the most painful processes we can experience, Gyppie. It's like trying to break free of a shell in order to breathe. Many repressed memories begin to surface in the 30's as the flotsam and jetsam of self, needing to be cleared of its own debris.
