I honestly do not know if this is triggering or not but I figured better safe than sorry. Below is a “poem” I wrote because I was feeling things. Make of it what you will. To me it has a specific meaning, to other it may mean something else. That is why I love art.
Moments, by Jessica H. Page
moments crashing through time
wave upon wave
dragging the wary down
forcing air from lungs which burn
unwelcome from the moment of birth
unnoticed by an unfeeling world
confusion a jumble of love, hate, abuse
moments, each one a mystery, lost.
moments remembered, each one held onto
revered and revisited, the images faded and ripped,
torn at the edges by a desperate mind.
struggling to understand, to comprehend, to let go
voices of the long dead, moments lost long ago,
whispers of the past, constant reminders of old aching pain
moments of time, holding one captive
the past, the present, the future, a prison
the sentence unknown as the darkness grows
building, growing, enormous
standing on the ledge as the moments pile up,
bits and pieces of a life lived, then lost, unremembered.
pulled down, down, down,
until the light is only a pin prick,
and eventually that too is replace by darkness.