Inconsolable
I cannot forget
How it felt to forsake
All that is warm, soft, and bleak.
How could I convey the glory
Of a morning without myself
To those I would leave behind?
You could not understand
The eyes I opened in my skin,
What I saw in the reddening grass.
I am a man crisscrossed with scars,
Thick, purple tissues that rise up
From my arms in mutiny.
Do not look upon me as
Wreckage, as the skeleton
Of a burned home!
I am as ash, carcasses, mould,
Wretched things that scream
In the dead of night,
Rejecting pity, craving silence.
The white bed is inconsolable
And you’re speaking softly again.
Posted Apr 26, 2022, 11:49 AM UTC · edited
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Thank you for the feedback! Definitely agree on that comma, it seems my love of Oxford commas sometimes manifests itself a bit overzealously haha. Editing it now.
Im glad you enjoyed my poem :)
[removed]
I think that the singular could work nicely as you said, though originally the plural comparison was intentional. I wanted to dehumanise the speaker with that line, to convey something of the public alienation that comes with having visible self injury marks.
I appreciate you pointing out the comma error to me, it definitely reads smoother now!