Blind Sorrow


  • iLuvPoetryJACOB
  • Poetry will always emerge out of the shadows of depression, shining like a star in the scarcity of light.

Blind Sorrow

Blind Sorrow 


Tension is in the air
And it presses down on me.
My shaking hands twisted the silver knob
I heard tense voices.
And I stumbled in quietly,
Completely unnoticed.

“You were never here!”
“Please... I can change.”
The pleading voice steals all the air.

Another fight?
Why did it sound so different now?

I was so used to brash, harsh yelling.
Why the sad, defeated voice now?
Utter confusion fills my head -
Are they just going to ignore each other again?
Or is it going to be “World War 3” here in my house?
Constant fighting for no visible reason.

I crept out of the room and shut the door.
There was no reason to be eavesdropping:
It just didn’t feel right,
There was no family feeling anymore.
It had faded away with the years and the fights,
Become jaded by lonesome nights.

Mother was yelling
At Father again:
“Wait. Before I leave I want to say bye.”
Mother understood immediately -
She nodded, and he walked towards me.
“I will see you...sometime. I love you.”

He reached down to pat my head and left,
I didn’t know why I was crying.
There was just something about the look on
His face that said something bad was happening.
I ran to him and caught him around the hips,
Hugging him tightly.

He wrapped his arms around me
And Mother stalked out of the room.
She was so cold,
But I loved her so much.
I was so overwhelmed;
I didn’t know what was happening.

Why was everyone sad?
Why was I sad?
I sobbed on the porch while he drove away
Mother dragged me inside and I knew she
Was going to tell me what was going on
But I didn’t want to know.

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KtIrish commented on Blind Sorrow


Strikes a familiar chord. I've been there before and have the scars to prove it. Well done.



thank you for your kind words.

Poetry is not the expression of personality but an escape from personality.

T. S. Eliot (1888-1965) American-English poet and playwright.

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