That last piece of string lies broken,
Frayed from days spent in a freezing sea,
Ice too tired
To stay solid around it;
It’s an unravelled tragedy
Of caring too deeply.
Pull it apart and you can feel
Its spongy texture wasting away
To little more than flakes
Of something much stronger, too afraid
To even pretend to be any longer,
Soaking up the water instead of
There are knots in my soul,
Like those on a tree or from twisted rope
I’m not sure;
They tie my tongue in a loop
And imprison the piece of hope
I had left.
I am cold.
I am too tired
To make sense.
I don’t know what this is. All I know is that in some way, it represents how I feel. It was written at a time where all I could feel was this cold desperation and nothing could shake it.
I hope, if this does anything, it can show people that you’re not alone. Things don’t have to make sense all the time.
From Elm 🙂