United States
39° 9' 30.3768" N, 94° 49' 52.7736" W
in my conscious mind lies the fertile gravel, which holds everything I disclose to the world
it supports the structures of my being, the abstractions of my thoughts:
The towering skyscrapers of my persona, embroidered with shimmering rectangles
are the windows through which I see
The orange tinted glass in the city’s largest church, which stretches out light like an elastic band
is the color in my iris that I greet people with
and The bell that resonates the pink rimmed flower on the town fence every hour
is the laughter with which I convey happiness and feel power

But hidden outside this magnificent place is a piece of rotten, splintered oak
it is chained with black iron and locked with a helix of flies, rising from the plank, like a puff of smoke
beneath the wood is a broken stair-case, build from a tree and destroyed by me.
the steps used to lead to a small shed approximately 20 feet below the city
the shed has never seen the light and has only seen a soul, my soul, once before
it has no windows and one sad, lonely door that creeps and weeps, like a newborn child
inside the shed lies nothing, but one small mealworm that lives only long enough to produce one more mealworm
That does the same

this mealworm is the embodiment of the real me, my fear and my weakness
the one time I went down the stairs to look at it, at myself,
Is the time I broke the stairs, while I surfaced,
Is the time I placed the wood down, once I rose
Is the time I locked the chain to the ground, once and for all

so that the only “me” that people see
Is not me at all. 


Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741