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Dwindling
The first night of it all, held a traumatic ending.
His cry for 'help!', across the door, never ceased the fear from creeping.
Their ragged and boneless bodies only fueled her want of leaving.
....
She was told to not pick up her phone. The person near told her to leave it alone.
Her living nightmare wasn't going to end.
She knew her brain wouldn't let her go back to bed.
She was hyperventilating, not even the waking morning could calm her bottomless dread.
Her older peer begged to know what's wrong.
She snapped and wished the night wasn't so long.
....
The final night held no sleep.
Thoughts of death stirring.
Fear clawing at her being, their snores were reassuring.
...
The ringing from the phone, that brought him out of sleep, filled her with relief.
She spilled him all her worries, even from the first night.
Though he only went back to sleep.
She didn't want to cry, not even when it was a need.
....
She held on to her light, for the rest of night.
She didn't pray to any god, but held on with all her might.
Watched as her light reflected off the mirror, though she could care less of vanity.
Only the books she read without terror, could save her from her dwindling sanity.
(If you don't feel like reading the origin of this poem below, then I wish you a jolly good day!)
(Optional) Author's note:
Hello to the people who chose to read this!,
I'm pretty sure you're not wondering how this poem came to be, but I really just wanted to put it out there just so there isn't any confusion.
This poem is actually my first one that comes in terms of talking about my self and my experience outside of my phone and the internet.
Though to be more specific, the "experience" was when I went traveling with my family not too long ago. We were literally sleeping that first night and next thing we know we're hearing banging and loud footsteps with someone yelling a very distinct 'help'.
I didn't check my phone, nor did I care to. There we're still loud footsteps outside our door and on our door and I remember shaking like a leaf and hyperventilating, thinking someone was trying to come in while everyone else were wondering wtf is going on.
My pop was telling me to not call anyone and be quiet. I almost ended up snapping at him for dismissing my fear as something 'ridiculous'.
Long story short, the point of my poem was to reflect how fucking terrified I was during and after that night (still am unfortunately). But even in those means, writing this was a bit of my way of dealing.
(Lol What's better then turning your slight trauma into art!)
Either way thanks for reading folks and enjoy the rest of your day/night!
© Inkpens
His cry for 'help!', across the door, never ceased the fear from creeping.
Their ragged and boneless bodies only fueled her want of leaving.
....
She was told to not pick up her phone. The person near told her to leave it alone.
Her living nightmare wasn't going to end.
She knew her brain wouldn't let her go back to bed.
She was hyperventilating, not even the waking morning could calm her bottomless dread.
Her older peer begged to know what's wrong.
She snapped and wished the night wasn't so long.
....
The final night held no sleep.
Thoughts of death stirring.
Fear clawing at her being, their snores were reassuring.
...
The ringing from the phone, that brought him out of sleep, filled her with relief.
She spilled him all her worries, even from the first night.
Though he only went back to sleep.
She didn't want to cry, not even when it was a need.
....
She held on to her light, for the rest of night.
She didn't pray to any god, but held on with all her might.
Watched as her light reflected off the mirror, though she could care less of vanity.
Only the books she read without terror, could save her from her dwindling sanity.
(If you don't feel like reading the origin of this poem below, then I wish you a jolly good day!)
(Optional) Author's note:
Hello to the people who chose to read this!,
I'm pretty sure you're not wondering how this poem came to be, but I really just wanted to put it out there just so there isn't any confusion.
This poem is actually my first one that comes in terms of talking about my self and my experience outside of my phone and the internet.
Though to be more specific, the "experience" was when I went traveling with my family not too long ago. We were literally sleeping that first night and next thing we know we're hearing banging and loud footsteps with someone yelling a very distinct 'help'.
I didn't check my phone, nor did I care to. There we're still loud footsteps outside our door and on our door and I remember shaking like a leaf and hyperventilating, thinking someone was trying to come in while everyone else were wondering wtf is going on.
My pop was telling me to not call anyone and be quiet. I almost ended up snapping at him for dismissing my fear as something 'ridiculous'.
Long story short, the point of my poem was to reflect how fucking terrified I was during and after that night (still am unfortunately). But even in those means, writing this was a bit of my way of dealing.
(Lol What's better then turning your slight trauma into art!)
Either way thanks for reading folks and enjoy the rest of your day/night!
© Inkpens
