Category Dark and Depressing Poems
That’s the chore,
That’s why so many therapists
And DFS coaches are in well-paid jobs.
It’s the not thinking
About a rape by a victim,
And the not thinking
Of a stranger’s greasy hands
All over your front hall.
Dear Mr Cameron, please help me do
You see I’m really struggling at the hands of you
You’ve taken all my money, my pride, and dignity
Leave me to wallow in a pit of poverty
I’m trying to swim through quicksand
With sand bags on my back
But the punishments relentless
and I want to live.
I want a break
and I want a fix.
I want to feel
and I want to numb.
I want to hide
and I want to run.
My tears fall silently,
Enough to drown in added together,
Sorrow piled up by the roadside outside my house,
As it can’t contain the amount sent,
I use all my strength,
Batten the doors,
Try to keep out,
Howling black phantoms,
Worries and doubt,
Of a general pointing straight at me
And the words below shouted out
That a soldier I should be.
Yes a soldier now that was a thought
I’d never had before
I didn’t fight, I’d never fought
And I’d never been to war.
But myself, and millions of others
Decided to heed the call
And despite the tears of our mothers
We trooped off all proud and tall
Together as mates from our towns
All over these sceptered isles
We left young and happy, but soon frowns
Replaced our naïve smiles.
Strong, controlled, all eyes are riveted to him,
He gives your eulogy, an acclamation of your life
As he understands it.
He boasts your beautiful smile,
And of that he speaks the truth.
In that smile is the love of God he says
And like a bolt of lightning I jerk up straight.
Shocked to my very core I am sickened.
‘Liar.’ I yearn to scream, ‘it is not as you say.
Behind that smile was abhorrence, fear and loathing.’
You are dead and now you are at peace
But what of me, the daughter you leave behind.
I am your flesh and blood, the one you were to protect
You allowed him, you knew and did but not stop him.
You forgave his exploitations by your omission
And in denial continued to smile at all around you.
peeling skin with the broken promise of cooling
as she waits
to be pumped full of salty brine
and then discarded, debris
carried by the waves until she
washes up on some strange, sunbaked shore, a
sea-scratched corpse, the
refuse of murder, or perhaps,
suicide
she bobs up
and down, violently
tossed by the waves, frantically
snatching rapid half-breaths-half-gulps-of-ocean before she’s
plunged ten feet
under, then
propelled back up, an insignificant
buoy caught in a
cyclone’s raging passion. his arms
grasp at her as
forcefully as a prayer expands out against
her chest, calling
for ocean to swallow the
naked groans and shrieks yanked
out into the unforgiving air—
each scream,
a plea that she might
die this moment, escape
the body convulsing and writhing,
possessed
For this weary soul?
Just to wrap her in love
Before she goes awol?
Tired of all these miseries
She seeks some solace,
Tormented with questions
She’s a hobo, now turned soul-less,
Wandering in the crowds
She searches for one single face,
in an orange-tinted bottle with a child proof lid
popping his meds and his precious endorphins
holding them closer than family
but nobody thought he was addicted
until the day he ran out
Nobody at all.
I shout, I cry, I scream
no one answers my call.
They say there’s light out there
light which I cannot see
but all I have inside
is a Dark Eternity.
The room keeps getting smaller
the walls are closing in
there’s no door to get out
no way to let hope in.
