Ancient Ruins

I absolutely adore writing, its one of the only things that keep me sane. This year my school entered my poem along with other people’s literary works into the Girl’s College Literary Competition. After having sent five entries over the years and receiving no grade higher than First Class I was not expecting much from it. Then, surprise surprise, for the first time since 2010 I received Honours, for Ancient Ruins. There you have it, the foundation of this post.

A place where angels fear to tread
Optimism, faith, love- all dead
The horrible place where you find
That no life or joy ever resides
The birds never sing, sun never shines
Daytime is as dark as night
It is encamped by a river of tears
And shrouded in your greatest fears
It is the definition of despair,
Happiness is never there.

An albatross is placed around your neck
The second you attempt to step
Closer to the source of gloom
What awaits? certain doom
For you cannot run, nor can you escape
The sorrow that from within, emanates.

But who’s responsible for this situation?
Who is to blame for this desolation?
In the midst of the rubble and debris
In my mind’s eye, in a reverie
It comes flooding back -it seems
The fault is mine- definitely.

I sent the torrential shower of anger and hate
So corrosive, it caused hope to disintegrate
When i realised, it was far too late
To ever avoid this dreadful fate.

I stand now with blood stained hands
Noone could’ve stood a chance
Against the flood of fury and malice
That caused all the good to disappear, to vanish.

Everything crumbled, everything fell
The story left for me to tell:
That i established this place
Where all good has gone, without a trace.
Life goes on, I remain stuck
For making a gargantuan mistake such,
As turning an idyllic life
Into ruins seasoned by time.

I was inspired to write this poem by the remorse that flowed profusely from my conscience. I feel like this is a depiction of the events that ensue after we hurt the people around us, that when matters remain unresolved they leave lives in shambles and hatred and bad blood are brewed. In the midst of this you can’t help but feel a twinge of guilt and the unfinished business hinders you from moving on. That’s where I was in February 2017.  Don’t go there.

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