"This is a poem about how sometimes one feels lost. About how sometimes one can feel stagnant, and trapped. About the pain that comes from the stillness.
Personally, this means the indecision for college. The pressure placed on me to do wonderfully on the SAT. The confusion that comes from trying to be different or else no one will accept me into their school. About how I have to be the best, but I can't see anything, other than the "granite-surface of the sea", my future. Everything turns dull for me, one-toned and I bleed "violet" when another rejection letter comes back to me."
Photo taken by: Mark Mawson
Poetry by: Ambika Ram, age, location
Painted hues of
violet
along the banks of
granite-surface seas
encasing and
smothering.
Slowly slipping,
weightlessly
descending,
while staring into an
eternal abyss.
Waiting, waiting,
blinking a few times,
yet still waiting.
What for?
The sea waits to
inevitably swallow
the entirety of the
soul.
This torn soul,
throbbing with angst,
Waiting to be
butchered from this heart.
This heart that
spills through it’s cuts,
pouring it’s contents into the
sea,
rolling over, onto
itself,
until it dissipates
into the
cold, cold,
oh-so-very cold hues of violet.
Still waiting,
waiting for a touch,
a movement in the
stream.
Waiting for a hint of
change
to stimulate the
corpse that
floats, drifts, sways
into coral floor.
Waiting for a thought
that is
Other than that of
the granite-surface of the sea.
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