It wasn’t easy

For national poetry writing month I decided to try writing poetry. I thought that since short stories were easy to write, then maybe poetry would be the same. I was wrong. I didn’t really enjoy the finished products of the three poems I’ve written, but I decided to upload them anyway. At least somebody else might enjoy them, even if I didn’t. So this first poem is one of the darker poems I’ve written. I didn’t try to rhyme or anything fancy, I just tried to tell a story I created in my head on the bus. Enjoy.

It was easy
Breathing, blinking, sleeping.
Even when she was physically broken,
It was all easy.
With the slightest movements of her wrist, she could illustrate it.
It was this beautiful combination of the thoughts she enjoyed
And her open world.
Without even knowing it,
She was leaving a space in each picture.
Then the rain poured down
And there was enough water to create an ocean.
It swept away everything in her illustrations
Except for the empty space.
It wasn’t easy.
Breathing, blinking, sleeping.
Her breaths turned to yawns
Her blinking left her eyes closed
She slept because there was nothing left for her
Except for the empty space.
The space seemed like a nothingness.
It was just invisible.
She felt an uncomfortable sensation
of something beneath her skin
The strings emerged from within
And took control of every nerve.
They picked up her wrist
And forced her to illustrate.
Her creations weren’t controllable
Her creations weren’t enjoyable
Her creations were the empty space.
The invisibilty faded away
and the image of walls knocked her over
These walls grew and broke through the canvas
They trapped her and confined her
Like a spiders web, but webs have holes
Like a house, but a house can become a home
Like a fence, but a fence can be jumped
She didn’t try to escape
She didn’t see the purpose
It wasn’t easy
Helpless, hopeless, worthless
She just slept
Because being awake meant she had to do something
She didn’t want to do anything
Even when she wasn’t physically broken
She couldn’t do anything
Then the ocean receded
Then the walks became invisible
The strings began to loosen
But it was all an illustration
She still felt the same
Numb, unconscious, dead
It was easy

Word count: 392


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