Her Last Poem

Bit dark and dodgy.

Her fingers to the keyboard, she wrote.
She told of life's injustices,
of pain and sorrow so immense
that a woman of her age
should have broken long ago.
But she didn't.

She let flow the battered tales, in detail.
Things that would make any ordinary,
perfect life suddenly crash
from the reality that outside the door
nothing is perfect.
Far from it.

She told of childhood, if you could call it such.
Of fear and anguish,
dashed dreams and tears that fell
in such amounts the oceans
would have seemed bigger.
If she was near.

She told of men, the bad kind.
The ones who broke spirits,
leaving bones intact but
riddling skin with bruises and
the soul with gaping open wounds.
Those don't heal.

She told of moments, lost ones.
Things than can never be regained,
like the smiles on a child's face
or the touch of a tiny hand on her skin
for the first time.
Those were gone.

She sat, and she wrote.
Her life filled the pages,
the pain flowed from fingertips
like blood from a successful
attempt to make the pain stop.
She was so close.

She slumped back, fingers dragging the keys.
Leaving behind a mess of letters,
her final jumbled goodbye
as she escaped the monsters that
haunted her inside.
One last breath.

Her final thought, was a curious one.
There indeed was no white light,
one more lie to fill her with hope
and as she drifted into the darkness
for the first time she felt complete.
And she let go.

Reviews

[Misery]

A poem many might consider 'dark' and hopeless, yet to those who wait for that final release it is a poem that offers a glimmer of hope. For those filled and overflowing with the daily insanity of society this poem hints at a final completeness, a true escape from humanity's madness. Thank you for courageously sharing the art that grows from your soul, dear poet.

[Chris]

yeah... life has this way of happening... this WAS a dark one - but not dodgy in the least.