Writer's block is the bane of my existence, and no matter how many times I've attempted to write a blog post over the past few days. I've been unable to finish them. To co-exist with my inability to pick up a pen and draft a post, I'm also midway through a reading-slump, although with revision kick-starting for the next exam season, it's no surprise that I can't even find the time to pick up a book! I did remember that there was a typed-up poem waiting in a Word document, having been there for months; I couldn't help but think it was aptly named for the release of Mockingjay: Part 1 tomorrow! It did take me a while to find, though, having been saved as 'Document 1', rather than it's name.
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Wreathed in rags,
a corpse - almost,
with hungry, hollow
eyes. Who prays.
Calling for Him,
waiting for answers.
For there's a dagger
that glints. Winks.
It's knife sharp.
Leaving ugly marks,
and battle scars.
Always, it wins.
//
Don't you bleed,
let crimson tears,
fall into cracks.
Shattered. Fragmented. Collapse.
Onto your knees,
try to plead.
For Mother's chair
lies there, discarded
amidst the rubble.
And broken dolls,
that you clutched,
between calloused fingers.
///
In dappled light,
fires ignite,
illuminating barren lands.
Don't look, dear,
whilst buildings fall,
only structures remain.
For unmarked graves
are found there,
beneath the canopy.
As smoke plummets,
in the distance,
away from here.
We breathe.
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Tell me in the comments!
Sophie
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