In the cave I cower
Against walls and floor as stoney
As my heart
I gain comfort
In the chill seeping into me
In the aches
In the emptiness
But
Even with its vastness
I feel suffocated
Claustrophobic
In its crushing space
The entrance
Invited me
Teased me
Safety, it promised
Warmth, it said
Comfort, it lied
So now, in the cave I cower
The entrance now an exit
One I can't approach
For the teases are taunts
The invites are insidious
The promises perished
A mountain of self doubt
Erupted like a volcano
Stands between us
In the cave of my self image
I cower
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Our inner self, where we take shelter from the world outside and all it throws at us, can be a cold, inhospitable place. Hard and unyielding, and decorated with the dark colour of how we see ourselves.
Beyond the darkness, there is light. Beyond the pain, there is hope. If we can only stand at the entrance and step out. Beyond.
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Pieces of Me
PoetryPoetry can give an insight to the soul of the writer. Or the reader. Poetry can touch on the feelings you don't want to admit to, and those you wish you could celebrate. On life. On time. On what it is to be you. Here's Pieces of Me, a poetic intros...
