Poetry has always been an outlet for people from all walks of life. Poets find inspiration from a multitude of subjects. The most commonly used subject in the art of writing is pain. To me, pain is the most easily written about topic in the world. When one is in pain, poems almost write themselves.
An author by the name of Levi the Poet discusses this phenomenon in his work. He states that wrote his best work when under intense amounts of stress. He wrote about making himself sad, making his thoughts haunt him, just to write something that someone could relate to. I relate to this on an emotional level. Often times we read about fighting the pain.
There are piles of lyrics and stanzas on fighting the demons. What happens when it all gets to be too much? What happens when we who are not fine finally admit that we aren't okay. No more fake smiles, no more courageous poems written about fighting struggles. We quit. No longer will I write romantic quotes about staying strong. Because sometimes, people just have to be weak.
In the midst of this arises a poem, because you can't kill the ones who are already dead:
The Time I Gave Up
I feel as though I may be dying
I know this is not true
I know that I shall live a full and beautiful life.
At least, on the outside.
Our hearts are broken
Our eyes are tired
Our life is so basically uninspired that we cannot bear it any longer.
We are the ones who swore we would not break
We swore we were stronger than it
We posted picture after picture,
Statement after statement,
About how fine we were. How great we were doing.
We laughed that fake laugh so many times that we almost convinced ourselves-almost.
At least the world around us seemed to believe.
Grow up Peter Pan,
Our brothers say.
If only they knew that we were the true lost boys.
We no longer desire to play your games.
The sun is shining outside but inside our hearts have turned to darkness.
Do not pity us, we no longer need your love.
We want nothing.
We hope for nothing.
Smiles are simply expressions.
Nothing more.
Love is pain, highness.
But we do not believe in love.
Life is pain.
Yet we have no life within us.
So thus, we introduce to you our surrender.
We, the forever broken, do surrender.
You may have our hearts and our fears.
Have our tears, we do not need to cry anymore.
We are sick of the backstabbers.
We cannot handle the lies.
We cannot handle the twisted truth.
All we wished for was honest.
All we wished for was love.
Now, it is too late.
As we submit to you, our surrender.
Love forever,
The broken ones.
