A Poem by Poetic License

I have fallen to echo,

A distant, whisper of self.

I cannot recall my voice,

My first voice,

My true voice.

I have grown into evening shadow,

Distorted, thinned, lengthened.

I am dark and diminished,

Darker still,

Until gone.

I am the echo, one of the last, 

One of the very last, 

Softest echoes 

Before it is lost entirely,

To silence.

What was the final word?

The echoes are too faint,

I am the last of these,

I cannot decipher,


Sun retreats still deeper to night,

I am fading, diffusing,

Into the dark around me,

I am lost from self,

To singularity.

Desperate scrabble toward sound,

Doomed race to catch light,

If I were closer to the sound,

If I were nearer the light,

If I were...

I feel as though I am not, though.

I am... no longer.

Riddles, quizzes, interrogations,

All that was, was not,

And all that is...

Is an echo of someone I used to be,

I strain now, leaning, 

Holding breath,

Please, I beg,


But the night is set now,

Black has come and swallowed me whole.

I am to be part of something else,

Something new,




Speak to me once again,

I am losing everything the echos held,

The sound of myself that will never be heard.

© 2017 Poetic License

Author's Note

Poetic License
Still, I struggle to find myself through the medications, through the therapy, through the doctors, through the ... echoes. This is what mine sound like.

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In a way, though, we are all ever evolving. ...
even when it seems we are not,
even when it seems we are ever the same for long periods of time,
sometimes change comes rudely and abruptly,
and not in the best way,
but as long as life does not halt there
the s**t shoveled on our lives
may yet yield
exqusite blooms!
S**t. . .
as much as it stinks,
makes fertile ground
for growth!

Posted 10 Months Ago

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1 Review
Added on October 25, 2017
Last Updated on October 25, 2017


Poetic License
Poetic License

St. Louis, MO

There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed. - Hemingway Fyrene ond fæhðe fela missera, singale sæce, sibbe ne wolde wið manna hwone m&ae.. more..