How much I wish to venture,
in the darkest roads of my fear,
nailing down the steep of adventure,
from a trail map of closures to clear,
Don't you hold me back,
in the sears of my wild roads,
let go of my swords that lack,
the reality that creeps to goad,
Weak knees on the mountain road,
away from tangent of surveillance,
chasing the silhouette of the rising sun in the cold,
the thrill in the blood to experience,
I rest my driving fear at forty-five,
I start with a confident gear at fifty.
About the Creator
Parvathi J
Through my pages, I find the quiet complexities of pain dwelling in a solitary space, burdening life’s endless demands, and unburdening the voiceless noise.
Witnessing the questioning, I speak the deeper silence of my voice.
IG: shruthilayam
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Day 4 of Quitting
If this is how sobriety feels, maybe it’s better to go through life a little buzzed… this, along with other hits like, I want to kill myself, I wish I was dead, and I’m going to throw myself off a bridge have been the only thoughts on rotation these past few days. I promise myself that if, in a month, I still feel like this (‘this’ meaning despondent, full of rage, and simultaneously numb) I can go back to smoking. Until mid-February though? Nicotine is off the table.
By sleepy drafts4 days ago in Longevity
Comments (2)
This has such a bold, adventurous spirit.
Oooo, this was so deep! Loved your poem!