Alone.
I am an immobile stone.
Desperation hits as I
attempt to stop an unstoppable 
storm.

That never ends
that I can't heal

Caused by the
evil workings of a violent world.

The human race has provoked it
as it ravages the beautiful lands
that once existed
in a place now unknown

A world now unknown.

Desperate
we try to find ourselves
fighting against a force that thrusts us
downward.

A force that feeds on
our everlasting blindness.
Ill, we damage the
world around us.

Storms arise
front
back
inside us.

What power do I have against
this mass destruction?

Desperate I work to
fight against 
the blindness
imposed consequence of
this world’s violence

Desperate 
I fight against the 
attack that those
unwilling have 
forced onto
this crying world.

I pick up the dust.
Dust that once made up
the unwavering stone
that fought against the
impossible power
of injustice.

Pieces back together
I look at myself.

Alone
An immobile stone.
I fight against
the unstoppable storm
the force that
feeds on our blindness
the world’s violence.

I have no power against this
mass destruction.

I am dust,
broken by the impossible
power of injustice.

A crying world.

My hope is crushed
I am powerless.
But I will never give up.
 

It pierces.
The pain
The guilt
the pressure.

Like the throbbing
of my head.

The words.

The gentle breeze does care for me,
it really does. 
But ever so fragile as the smallest leaf
i fall 
defeated
to the words
the words of pain
its pain
not mine
but mine

that subtle movement
is a hurricane
that leaf
its cause

it makes no sense
nothing does
but both the gentle breeze
and the leaf
know.

its mine. 
like the throbbing in my head.
 

This is a poem i got inspired by looking at a chair. To see the poem Click read more.

This is a narrative I wrote last year for my English class. Hope you like it! - Yasmin

Days, months, years had passed since it happened. Yet I still live in that very moment, or rather that, this moment, lives on in me, with me, off me. I would be mendacious if I said I had forgotten or if it had forgotten me. How could it, how could I, after all that we've been through. My safe, my saviour, my equal, yet it is the source of so, so much pain and anguish. 

Pulling my hand towards the door, was a force I had no power or authority over. A force that had left me appalled, bewildered... that had left me staring at the contents of a room I could not yet make sense of. It was unspoken of. What was I doing? My mind, submissive in character, was desperately ordering my body to obey the words that I had been told only too often: "Don't you ever dare walk past that door". But I did.