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  • Writer's pictureSemesta Cruinne

Within - A poem

After quite some time I wrote in third person. Anyway, a piece from a week back about the tiring journey within.

Gun in the left pocket

Bullets in the right

Her hands strapped

To her intention

Her lips look like knives


Through the tangibles

A fire burning inside

From the core to the chest

And coming out from the eyes

She feels rigid

Or strong

She roars

Rotates her neck

Narrows her eyes

I can hear her angry breath

Her claws are out

She is the weapon

The sides of the forehead dissolve

The front focusses


The body faces the opposition

Head on

Prepared for the battle

Calling it out

She is fury

Roars again

To no response

Tears roll down from the sides of her eyes

She doesn't react

She scratches the ground

The screechy sound

Hurts her ears

But she doesn't stop

Hits the ground

Stomping her feet and palms


At no one

Her eyes watering of fatigue

There is still passion and energy

Shaking her head

In all directions

She wants to see lesser

Than how much she feels

She cries out

And begins to mourn

Her hands slow down

She weeps

Her legs weary

Her mouth wailing

She mourns

In pain

Of loss


She mourns

And mourns

And then silently

She sits

Everything is a little blur

But it will be clearer she thinks


At the wall or the ceiling

Body's ceased movement

No wind

Things have moistened

Life mellowed down

Lying on the ground

She becomes a part of it

Breathing slackingly, dullly

Submits herself into it all

The soil crawls over

And wraps her

She melts into invisibility

She is tired

She is lost

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