Poem about mortality: A Grave Matter

January 26, 2022

Image concept by Ayanna by Kourosh Qaffari and KoolShooters from Pexels

Ayanna Huie-Manneh muses on her life and the impermanence of human existence

I’m crying for no other but myself
Sobbing at my own grave, I lay tulips and wildflowers by the cold stone
Engraved it states all my wrong doings and hard done bys

Not used to comfort from a figure of nurture
So this is how I nurture myself
Made to feel guilty for building
A fortress under my covers
Feeling safe in my discontent
Why commit to tasks when I can pity in my bed

Yesterday holds promises I’ll never keep
Just like tomorrow, I’ll apologise to my reflection
Attempt to forgive myself for lying and lying
Trying but never daring to leave my cosy cabin of despair
So in cursive letters and midnight ink
I write the invitations and fold them away

Off they fly like paper planes
Written on airborne paper
An invitation to my end
Not for now or later, but for always
It seems as though it’s scribed in the stars
That I’m destined to die from self-inflicted battle scars

And I know, I know, I know that I’d be late to my own funeral
I’d take five steps forward, end up five miles away
Late to sob at my own grave.

Ayanna is student at Woodhouse College. She studies English literature, Philosophy and Sociology. Passionate about writing and the power of words; she is keen to share her ideas with the world.

Ayanna is student at Woodhouse College. She studies English literature, Philosophy and Sociology. Passionate about writing and the power of words; she is keen to share her ideas with the world.

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