Growth

A short poem. I have a lot of these, so I'm just posting them as fast as I can so I can get back to the meat and potatoes of my writing.

There’s no point worrying about something that’s constant

I don’t want to hate people, but sometimes I don’t really have a choice

And I suffered, maybe so much that it changed me, made me into the person I am

Forged the boy into a man

Built a border for the swarms disordered in the sand

A ragtag bad, of old hands, a ravager in cold lands

As long as I can think, as long as I can feel, as long as I can live, I am here, I am real

I will not waver and give anything but every last drop of blood, of memories, of love, of semblance, of essence, or mementos, till the last note of crescendos ends in each window of willpower’s sigil frigid and fragile to the last digit

The privilege to bear witness to god

And watch time carry on, infinity strong as the bonds rain on the willing victims, in our worldly prison, forgiven

 

 

Author's Note

I very seldom reply to reviews, but I promise I read EVERY single one. I look forward to my next review, because it helps me learn. Even if it's just one word, I promise, I will be ecstatic to have the chance to hear what you have to say. Whenever you write something about my poems, or the themes of my poems, or criticize me it is not in vain. I will listen, learn and be thankful.