Destructive Cyle (a poem)

Destructive Cycle

I can scream

At the dead white walls

Up into the hopeless gray sky

Into my defenseless deaf pillow

            The walls will remain silent

            The sky will only begin to cry

            My pillow will lie resentfully from my voice’s torment

            None of them will do anything

            To stop you from going

I can cry

Curled up under the covers

Atop the branches of a leafless tree

In an empty dark room

            The covers will hide me

            The tree will only hold me sorrowfully

            The empty dark room will echo my sobs back to me

            None of them will do anything

            To stop you from going

I can write

In an old worn notebook

On the bathroom walls

On this blank page

            The old worn notebook will accept my words          

            The bathroom walls will get cleaned

            This blank page will be filled

            But my words will do nothing

            To bring you back

So why

Why do I alternate

Through this destructive cycle

That’s picking me down to the bone

If it does nothing in the end?

I scream, I cry, I write

And you only get farther away.

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Found some old writing :)