Balloons are held down by anchors. Balloons need anchors, as you need air. But my anchor was taken away from me. Passing the heavens as I float away, swooned by the hollow sound of being alone. Forever known as the sad girl who sang to the crows. The girl who jumped off the deep end, never learning how to swim. There’s no longer anyone.

Riding away from the mourning home, the memories of every long night,

every hug,

every tear,

every laugh,

every moment flood me.

And

I

break

 

My tire hits something and I go tumbling over. The gravel is cold and damp, but I do not shiver. I feel the warmth of my blood, dripping from the open wound. I don’t know where I am but I need to get away.

I start to run.

I run till my heart is left behind,

till the world stops spinning,

no tears left to cry.

 

Reaching an open field, it’s pouring now. I fall, my head cocked to the sky, tears blending with rain. The crows cry is mocking as they fly above, wanting to eat the last good left in me. I want to scream, shaking the heavens.

 

“I’m sorry.” I whisper.

“I’M SORRY!” I scream.

Crows’ cackles mix with mine. I want to be seen.

“CAN YOU HEAR ME? I’M SORRY!”

The world shakes but I need it to consume me.

“I tried holding it together,”

I’m sobbing now.

“but I just can’t, not without you.”

The  world opens up and the mud, the Birch trees, the sad corn all pour in. I look up once more.

“I’m sorry my love, I’m sorry.”

I whisper before the world engulfs me.

Floating away with the everlasting balloons.

Singing sweet songs to the sad crows.

The Perspective of Notre Dame:

I can feel another piece of me fall away.

Crumbling to the ground.

I can not see what parts of me I have lost, but I can feel that they are gone.

The heat rising from the pit of me, destroying the beauty and hope that was once there.

Gone,

and carried away with the black smoke,

as I was left to

Burn.

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When love fails and the earth falls,

The Sea will stand still.

Singing its sorrow song to the ones who cant hear.

It mourns for the

broken

and weeps for the

ill.

But who will sing to the sorrow Sea,

To the sailors lost in tragedy and

the monsters found to close to the bays.

The boat mass starts to sway when the world falls into decay.

But the sorrow Sea still sings its sweet song, because it knows, even the broken will try to sing along.

But nobody ever sings to the sorrow Sea its waves drenched with the worlds tragedy.

So when love fails and the earth falls the Sea will stand still.

Watching you stop your pain with a

pill,

but it never really stops the pain Does it? So the sorrow sea will sing louder because you are not the one to blame.

An Ode to the beautiful Sea, the one who loves even the broken,

and keeps my tragedy.

I often find myself righting about the sea, and for the longest time I wondered why or what that meant, and In this poem the sea is God. How we take advantage of the life given and how even thought we don’t sing back he still loves the broken. How he never gives up and never stops singing. How nobody will notice him, but he notices you. How he will sing louder and more for the broken. This month with the NaPoWriMo challenge has really helped me find who I am as a writer, and yes it was difficult to keep up some times but, I had a lot of fun and it helped me grow as a writer and a person.

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