You Feel Nothing

poem i sat down and wrote today, inspired by a picture i saw of a teenager with her head in her hands literally just sat down and wrote it, first draft, tell me what you think this poem is really dark, im warning you so if you dont like dark stuff, j

 up against the wall, sitting all alone

head held in your hands

habitual tears falling from your mind's eye

white wash the walls and ceiling of your only sanctuary

you feel nothing

 

the pain drowns everything

then you cry it away

you see blood upon the white floor

faded to gray in this surreality

you feel nothing

 

you are trapped in this

white room of your mind

you are completely numb

you watch days, weeks, months

go slowly by, creeping along

you watch through your only window, your eyes

as others feel something

as they experience the emotions of life

emotions you have forgotten how to feel

you wish, they too, would look from their windows

to see you

but their sanctuaries distract them, entertain them, complete them

they cannot see past their colorful walls

they cannot see your white washed walls

you feel nothing

 

you watch yourself from above

as you laugh and joke with friends

as you cry for other's broken hearts

as you make a smile

but you are just a hollow shell of these things

you always return to the white washed sanctuary

you feel nothing

 

you watch from above, as your parents abuse you

as their words, which used to burn your soul

which caused this numbness

do nothing

you hope against all hope

that this time you'll feel the pain like you used to

but, alas,

you feel nothing

 

you watch as your mother

throws you up against the wall one last time

it clicks

 

you watch her fall to the ground, knocked out cold

 

you feel the pain

throbbing in your hand

the sweet glorious pain

that you can feel again

 

your bloody knuckles paint the walls scarlet red

Author's Note

literally just sat down and wrote this, inspired by a picture i saw

first draft, tell me what you think
constructive criticism is welcome

Reviews

[Lizanne]

Pictures can inspire, but you seem to have the ability to look deep within the picture and read the emotions that it projects. This is a very emotional writing that so well describes the life of one that has been abused. The minds eye, the ever mystical third eye, that modern man does like to not acknowledge exists. Some want to call it concience. No matter that is not what the poetic work is truly about, but does in a way involve. The abused person creates their own little safe haven, easier to do the color scheme in black and white, because if you use bright colors, someone will just come and take all the brightness away. They are always on the outside looking in and become so use to the pain and retreating to another safe place during the abuse , that like the colors they lose the feelings of emotions. Why be happy, someone is just going to jerk the rug out from under you when you least expect. It is an existence of always looking over your shoulder, trying to screen everything you say and not acknowledging to the abusers you are the least bit happy. But one day things may snap and the abuser becomes the target. The pain in the knuckles of the one you wrote about was probably a pain of joy and finally escape from the terror he had been locked into for so long. Odd, but a lot of times, once the abuser realizes you will not tolerate their misery, they back off. Sadly it often results in the death of someone. But you writing is a very wise and emotional one. It would bring comfort to someone that is going through this. They could read it and say "someone does understand." Just knowing that little thing is like moving a mountain. Hold onto that wonderful pen with which you write.