Watch for warning signs.
Hollow ground
Will give way beneath you.
Do not get buried under centuries of snow.
Breathe in,
Breathe out.
Try not to think.
Give the pain back to the ghosts,
It is not yours to keep.
Only they shove it back into your arms,
Insistent.
Their pleas grow louder and you try to tell them,
You are no righteous hero, no saintly prophet.
Just a tired kid trying to drown out dead voices.
Breathe.
Don't count your blessings
They are filled with with survivor's guilt.
Instead count the dead,
Each name like lead on your tongue,
Almost too heavy to speak.
Glue together any pieces that have fallen apart,
March one foot in front of the other.
Hope your list doesn't grow.
Repeat.
YOU ARE READING
Scattered Leaves
PoetryLanguage is a reflection of humanity. Chaos that veers into organization Just to spin away again with a giggle and a grin. Random poems that I write. I will update sporadically. Constructive criticism is appreciated. If you want to see my best poem...
