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wormhole

A powerful poem about a mortal questioning their faith

By Korinne Joy TuckPublished 6 years ago 2 min read
Savi(y)our self

I'm so

in

c

i r

c l

e

s

lately.

morning dew did freeze over

but we

did not.

but I'm stuck wondering

if some part of me

did die

with everything else?

I feel like a broken bank vault

and something tunnelled inside

from

under.

I'm hollow

I hear these

e c h o e s

but I don't know who

(or what)

stole everything from me.

I'm in this

void

these walls

are crushing me.

I miss the security I used to have

did I let my guard down

or did my guard

collapse

down

on

me?

I just want everything

to fucking

go

away and

never

come back

I just want to forget all these insecurities

I just want whoever the fuck keeps playing replay

to make it

fucking

stop

I just want all these people

all these thoughts

all these voices

all these theives

to stop stealing the ground beneath my feet

how greedy must one be

to take all I have inside

and still,

continue robbing me

of the

nothing I have left?

I just want to be able to start over

but I can't

these masked theives

keep stealing everything I managed to find

as I try to

pull myself back

together.

I can't claim to be an angel

can't claim to be an angel

I have walked astray and am guilty of dirty deeds

but this

is getting to be too much

i'm so

fucking weak

I never should have doubted

the deadly

in the seven sins

if God is love

what kind of sick fuck

calls demonic spite for forgiveness fair?

dear holy one of the heavens

if you're really there

forgive a mortal human to question;

this

'love'

if I dare?

this emptiness, my insides I bare!

I see myself in mirrors through voids in reflections and never ending air;

at hell

I

STARE

into blackholes

I worm

I wither

gravity berids me of my light

this pressure!

this pressure!

oh, this fucking pressure!

I strain as it swallows me into the night

I am

I will (and against my,I)

become

one

with this

v o r t e x

I am

thinning

thinning

dear god, (non existent to listen)

who am I kidding?

this is the vivid cackle

the kiss of burning shrapnel

gobbling

gobbling

swallowing

slaughtering

my light

my sight

my breath

my fight

this god

this 'love'

this black screaming night!

this pressure

this pressure!

this gravity knows not mercy!

it pounds down even the slight

of fainted suns and starridden light

this pressure

this pressure!

this fight

my..

light?

what time of less remains

before this vortex

this void

this possesioned black light

smothers my soul

my matter

and

f l a t l i n e s

the

night?--------------------------

-



sad poetry

About the Creator

Korinne Joy Tuck

writer, poet, artist.

[abstract]

(with intensity)

× of incredible intellect.

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