pain

This is a Cry For Help

Artwork by Patricia Homersham

This is a cry for help.
An attempt at poetry to give meaning to the measured rage of my mother clawing away in closed fists.
This poem is a crying apology to my best friend in 5th grade
this poem is a failed writer
expecting brilliance, getting cocooned into mediocrity
What a shame, to never be enough,
how pathetic to be kind to the whole wide world
and not to your own damn heart

this poem is the vomit of the pretty mouth after 13 shots down dancing alone with strange faces and stranger hearts
this poem is the crack in the voice of someone who is about to cry
a propulsion rocket without direction
the quiet moment in the annihilation of the world
the bullet in kurt cobain’s revolver
this poem is dali on cocaine
camus’s plagued town plundering the undead
The absurdest of distortions
this poem is neitsche’s godless world
kafka’s cage
made of cruel metaphors of loss
blunt analogies of the ache of growing up
it’s sylvia plath’s head fried in an oven

this poem is your distraction your obsession
with sex and cinema and poetry
books and lovers and dead forgotten friends
how very tender and wounded
the way you look at dandelions floating away
or water bubbles in all their glory

This poem drugs itself at mother’s funeral
it’s the curse, the burden of lost years
this poem is all your lovers in one face
This poem is uncouth, it’s the will to power
this poem is the disfigured face floating on beach
this poem wrecks everything it loves
this poem is a rebel at heart, is blunt and ruthless and uncouth
this is a tiny invisible dot in exapanding expansive universe
this poem is unadulterated madness in display
this poem is a mirror to your crevices
a eulogy to the damned
This poem is a witness that you can’t make fucking poetry out of everything.

—

Poem by Simran Singh

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