
Poetry and Other Works
I’m on my own in a room of plenty,
reminiscing something I don’t want to.
These people here only care for themselves
and not all of the things they put me through.
It gets to the point I must be silent
to keep intact some of my sanity.
For if I lose my mind here in this room
and speak poisonous words, profanity,
I will never recover what is lost
from the relationships that have been strained.
My heart long since barricaded within,
it’s no longer able to be obtained.
I think often upon the night we fell.
The sorrow that escaped my eyes
had dripped down my cheek
and poisoned my lips to tell lies.
It seems to me that pain exists
so that we create more
to torture our souls before death,
the reality we bargained for.
You told me that you loved me,
and I did not believe it so,
For if you truly loved me,
You would not leave me in woe.
Now, today in agony I sit
and ponder upon this mess.
The truth is I dont know anymore,
my hopes are becoming less.
The question I ask burns within:
How can we find our way?
By defining our tomorrow?
From learning our yesterday?
The dawn breaks my empty gaze,
and my horrid train of thought.
We dont want to fight anymore,
but this war we already fought.
We can’t take back what we said,
because we cannot change the past.
But If we cannot change for the future,
There is no chance that we will last.
You used to love making the truth hazy
so that everyone thought I was crazy
when no one else was around
I now have to put up a wall
and be prepared for the fall
when you once again let me down
It’s my fault for every time
I believe you’d change on a dime
when you say your proud to see.
You make my achievements your own,
you hop into the spotlight all alone
and forget it was about me.
You make it out like you did the work,
with a simple gesture and a sly smirk,
so that everyone would know
by pushing me far out of the way
without giving me a chance to say
I will no longer live in the shadow.
But it took me a moment longer
to know just how much stronger
I can still be on my own
And so I won’t wait for a chance
for the opportunity to advance
to the next milestone.
At the end of the day,
I no longer care what you say
about what made me me.
Because I know the truth inside.
Who I am will provide
to set me free.
There comes a point in all our lives
When we reach the age of truth.
Where they ask what we plan to do
with the remainder of our lives.
As they always do.
In these moments you will learn,
Who truly believed in you, the individual,
And who never cared about your future
if it does not fit into their design.
As they always do.
I have reached this vital milestone,
at the edge of my graduation.
I, one of few to make it four years
but still they show it’s not good enough.
As they always do.
They ask me what I plan to do now,
Not because they care but as a test,
To see if I am worthy to keep around,
As something for them to brag about.
As they always do.
But when I won’t give such satisfaction,
And say only that I plan to write,
They must ask further questions,
when I will no longer answer.
As they always do.
It is as I said, a test,
To see if I am worth their time,
For who could love an unpublished writer,
when they cannot profit on them themselves?
As they always do.
Ironic that it is only older generations
who ask such questions on my future,
The same generations that have failed
to provide mine with a future at all.
As they always do.
So when they give their silent nods,
The truth lies in what they do not say,
From this, I have learned to weed the garden,
For when they seek me after I bloom.
As they always do.
You walk out the door
my heart on the floor.
You do not answer
my question for you.
You say it’s too much,
my heart says it’s not.
You wish for a change,
my hope has faltered.
I no longer think
I can handle it.
We are nothing but broken.
Born in New York, Sy Redemption is a poet/writer who has a Bachelor’s degree in English for creative writing. She is a versatile writer, crafting evocative poetry, captivating short stories, and is currently immersed in the creation of her debut novel. When she’s not writing, Sy indulges in her love for literature and cherishes quality time with her family and two feline companions. She now lives in South Carolina, where she channels her passion for mental health awareness and animal advocacy in her works.

Sy Redemption
Poet/Author
May 6, 2023

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