A claustrophobic comfort, the tomb breathes life.
What was once fleshy residue
formed into something brand new.
A screaming light barges through an ominous opening.
I'm not ready.
I'm not ready.
I'm not ready!
O' love, wait for me.
For I can feel the red thread of fate
choking me dead.
Wednesday, November 13, 2013
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
There are a few ways to interpret what I've written.
The first part of the poem is the comparison between the transitioning stage of a fetus to a human baby, to the transitioning stage a teen to an adult.
During most of a teenager's time period, they feel this strange depression for most of that time (fleshy residue, symbol of worthlessness. Yeah, most teens feel that way for some reason) .
They soon become better once they reach adulthood, because life starts to make sense (and hopefully most are past the egocentric point haha) .
But this poem starts to take a drastic downturn. Way down. As in, no real positive change like I've been talking about.
Instead of developing into a stereotypical adult(you know responsibility and all that great shiz) , this one person in particular is refusing to move on to that stage.
Because if they continue on, they would have to continue on without their love (as in romantic, monogamous relationship, in case you were coming up with another weird idea) by their side.
So the red thread of fate, the cliché symbol for what bonds two persons together, is also the very thing that brings that one individual's end.
The red thread of fate is also a metaphor for the placenta choking the fetus out. Pretty much the ultimate symbol of love not only keeping that individual alive, but it also the source of the individual's undoing.
That individual being me.
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES