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The Floor
Author: Angelina

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The floor is my reality.
Cold and hard, it's the only thing that's really there.
The only thing that exists to me,
always there to fall back upon.
Always do I fall.
The floor clasps me and holds me down.
Never can I get up.
Never will I mend.
Bruising me, it stains me,
Giving me the concussion I fall for.
Always do I fall.
I can't get up.
I won't.
Only to fall again?
There is no reverence in trying to stand.
This tired meaningless life cannot be held.
So I lye on the floor that I used to fall upon.
Never shall I fall again.

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Comments on this poem/writing:

Stacy (205.188.208.72) -- Saturday, April 26 2003, 04:16 pm

Great

Well-expressed. I very much enjoy your poem, likely because I have felt the emotions you describe. Falling is hard and dispiriting, but I have found that each fall only makes you stronger and less likely to fall again. Hang in there and keep writing your way through the hard times:)
 
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