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Creativity Unite!
- Thread starter shineyourlight
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- Mar 6, 2020
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TRIGGER WARNING.
This isn't a poem. I write short essays, mostly. But here's one of mine that I wrote a couple of years back!
My breaths come out in short puffs.
My legs can’t go fast enough.
The shadows of the trees dance on the wooded floor.
I can’t let him catch me.
I run faster. I trip.
My knee begins to bleed.
I look frantically behind, trying to catch a glimpse of him. I cannot see him. All I hear is his breathing. Breaths going down my neck, leaving shivers down my spine.
I turn around to run again, but all I see is a door. A door standing in the middle of the woods. Where did it come from? I hear his footsteps closer behind me. I couldn’t escape now. I rushed towards the door, knowing I’d fully regret the decision.
I open it and step inside.
I don’t remember if I closed the door or not, all I know is that I'm standing in complete darkness. The darkness envelops me like a cold winter’s day. I shiver, but I can’t make anything out.
I reach out my hands, trying to grasp something or touch a wall. Anything. I come up empty handed.
I squeeze my eyes. Maybe if I just close them tight enough, everything I know from my whole life would disappear.
He would be gone.
I tried imagining my life to where it was full of sun, full of warmth. It felt almost real that I could almost feel the sunshine on my face.
Safe. I felt safe.
I breathe in. I breathe out.
I opened my eyes, I was still in the same darkness.
It still enveloped me.
I tried moving forward but couldn’t. I was stuck. It was as if someone put sticky glue on the floor as a cruel joke to keep me from moving.
I close my eyes again.
Wake up, I whisper.
You’re only dreaming. He really is a nice guy. He just messed up.
I felt the weight of his foot slam into my back. I buckled.
I couldn’t see him, I couldn’t see where he was aiming.
A closed fist plummeted my face, leaving a gush of blood pouring from my lip.
Once.
Twice.
Three times I felt the fist going into my face.
I tried screaming. I tried telling him to stop.
“I’m so sorry,” as tears stream down my face. “I’ll do better. I promise. I love you.”
He didn’t show me mercy. He didn’t stop. He continued kicking me, punching me. I felt a rock crush my head.
The light within me began to dim. I feel it.
My eyes, they’re closing slowly. The punches, the kicks, they all became a dull pain.
I felt myself vomiting, choking, and then I felt the sun breaking through the darkness.
I saw his face. I saw the look of anger in his eyes.
I began to dim out, I knew it was the end. I knew it was my time to go. I saw his eyes change, eyes that were once full of anger turn into eyes of horror. What had he just done?
He tried reaching out to me, now my protector. I felt his arms picking me up and cradling me like a baby. But, it is too late. He’s sobbing and I have no more energy to push him to the side.
My eyes roll in the back of my head. I reach out to him, but too weak to move. I’m dying. With my last breath, I whisper, “All I wanted was a father.”
This isn't a poem. I write short essays, mostly. But here's one of mine that I wrote a couple of years back!
My breaths come out in short puffs.
My legs can’t go fast enough.
The shadows of the trees dance on the wooded floor.
I can’t let him catch me.
I run faster. I trip.
My knee begins to bleed.
I look frantically behind, trying to catch a glimpse of him. I cannot see him. All I hear is his breathing. Breaths going down my neck, leaving shivers down my spine.
I turn around to run again, but all I see is a door. A door standing in the middle of the woods. Where did it come from? I hear his footsteps closer behind me. I couldn’t escape now. I rushed towards the door, knowing I’d fully regret the decision.
I open it and step inside.
I don’t remember if I closed the door or not, all I know is that I'm standing in complete darkness. The darkness envelops me like a cold winter’s day. I shiver, but I can’t make anything out.
I reach out my hands, trying to grasp something or touch a wall. Anything. I come up empty handed.
I squeeze my eyes. Maybe if I just close them tight enough, everything I know from my whole life would disappear.
He would be gone.
I tried imagining my life to where it was full of sun, full of warmth. It felt almost real that I could almost feel the sunshine on my face.
Safe. I felt safe.
I breathe in. I breathe out.
I opened my eyes, I was still in the same darkness.
It still enveloped me.
I tried moving forward but couldn’t. I was stuck. It was as if someone put sticky glue on the floor as a cruel joke to keep me from moving.
I close my eyes again.
Wake up, I whisper.
You’re only dreaming. He really is a nice guy. He just messed up.
I felt the weight of his foot slam into my back. I buckled.
I couldn’t see him, I couldn’t see where he was aiming.
A closed fist plummeted my face, leaving a gush of blood pouring from my lip.
Once.
Twice.
Three times I felt the fist going into my face.
I tried screaming. I tried telling him to stop.
“I’m so sorry,” as tears stream down my face. “I’ll do better. I promise. I love you.”
He didn’t show me mercy. He didn’t stop. He continued kicking me, punching me. I felt a rock crush my head.
The light within me began to dim. I feel it.
My eyes, they’re closing slowly. The punches, the kicks, they all became a dull pain.
I felt myself vomiting, choking, and then I felt the sun breaking through the darkness.
I saw his face. I saw the look of anger in his eyes.
I began to dim out, I knew it was the end. I knew it was my time to go. I saw his eyes change, eyes that were once full of anger turn into eyes of horror. What had he just done?
He tried reaching out to me, now my protector. I felt his arms picking me up and cradling me like a baby. But, it is too late. He’s sobbing and I have no more energy to push him to the side.
My eyes roll in the back of my head. I reach out to him, but too weak to move. I’m dying. With my last breath, I whisper, “All I wanted was a father.”
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Benjamin Müller
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- May 19, 2018
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Awe. That was incredibly sad to read @shineyourlight . I hope that's not from personal experience. 
Your poem reminded me though of a dream I had during a dark-time in my life. I was under a lot of demonic attacks and knew I was going to die. (Which I almost did had God not intervened) I wrote the poem before my near-death experience. I'll post it in a new reply. 'Father' in the below poem is dual. My earthly father was in the dream, but I understood it to be our Heavenly Father as well. Cause dreams do that.
Anyway here it goes:
Your poem reminded me though of a dream I had during a dark-time in my life. I was under a lot of demonic attacks and knew I was going to die. (Which I almost did had God not intervened) I wrote the poem before my near-death experience. I'll post it in a new reply. 'Father' in the below poem is dual. My earthly father was in the dream, but I understood it to be our Heavenly Father as well. Cause dreams do that.
Anyway here it goes:
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Benjamin Müller
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- May 19, 2018
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The Dream
Entrapped by charcoal walls of endless night,
and leagues of shadows who bar me from escape;
yet, in my hand, a candle gives me light
to show me what’s beyond the ebon gate.
My father stands outside this realm of death,
encircled round about by endless day.
For loving-kindness he is wholly blessed;
with heaven’s glory he is strong to save.
Encroaching storm-clouds suffocate my flame,
and sudden sorrow grips my fainting heart.
My soul like a shaded flower wilts away,
for whispered voices say I must depart.
My father cannot reach this shroud of black.
Eclipsed from sight, my candle fades and dims.
For shields of darkness will not let him pass:
how death has separated me from him!
Entrapped by charcoal walls of endless night,
and leagues of shadows who bar me from escape;
yet, in my hand, a candle gives me light
to show me what’s beyond the ebon gate.
My father stands outside this realm of death,
encircled round about by endless day.
For loving-kindness he is wholly blessed;
with heaven’s glory he is strong to save.
Encroaching storm-clouds suffocate my flame,
and sudden sorrow grips my fainting heart.
My soul like a shaded flower wilts away,
for whispered voices say I must depart.
My father cannot reach this shroud of black.
Eclipsed from sight, my candle fades and dims.
For shields of darkness will not let him pass:
how death has separated me from him!
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- Jul 23, 2007
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I used to be into doodling and making comics when I was younger. Want to get back into art again after a ten-year hiatus. I have much more unique designs than these I have drawn; but I want to keep them secret for the time being.
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