Downfall

Hey everybody! Well, this week is turning out to be a major poetry week. :P Lo and behold... I present to you a poem I wrote today, Downfall. Unfortunately, it describes my life pretty perfectly right now (even though I hardly ever write about myself - I made an exception for this one!).

I also wrote a song on this topic - in fact, the poem has a line borrowed from said song - but it's kind of personal so I'd rather not post it. Sorry for missing the song snippet this week, lovelies. I really wanted to share with you the song I was recording, but it's just not ready yet. Next week I promise I'll post it, ok? On the topic of FH - I added in an incredibly depressing - but necessary - chapter last night that had me bawling (my life's just a barrel of laughs, isn't it?) and word count is at 53,000.

Sorry for the poetry overload, everyone! Next week will be a bit more FH and music-centered. xx

love, Topaz

Downfall

some days I wonder just exactly when letting go turned into giving up. 

such a black black night we live in but when the beam of sun that kept us going for so long turns into just another strand of darkness pulling us further from the light such a sad thing it is that we cannot yell enough that we cannot plaster on a smile and say thank you for your time – the exit is this way 

can’t we?

people yell through every open corner every space they can cram their jumble of endless shouting words but when the voice of reason that kept us hoping for so long turns into just another screaming voice jarring us back to harsh reality when did it become a sin to yell enough? when did it become a crime to cover our ears and close our eyes and listen only to the voice whispering in our own hearts?

when?

some days I wonder just exactly when my beam of light my voice of reason became something altogether very different and some days I wish to go back in time back to when it was safe to turn every corner and there was no fear of finding dark scattered rumors someone forgot – maybe – to pick up and back to when letting go was not tainted with the sharp metal tang the bubbling burning accusation flashing, ready to erupt with the dipping dropping downfall of giving up.