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a space for youth writing on mental health & identity
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a space for youth writing on mental health & identity
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![]() Orpheus must've known The Eurydice wasn't going to make it out. He must've known Through the gods, Or his rotten luck, Or plain common sense That she wasn't leaving with him. Better to get it over with And see her one last time Than to be disappointedly alone Under the glaring sun. Or did he choose
Poetry over a happy ending? Did he choose To immortalize her in lyrics Rather than wait for another ending? Or perhaps Eurydice choose To stop and say "Turn around". To stop And choose to have peace. To live as a metaphor And die as a lover. But I am not Orpheus, And I am not Eurydice. My life's not tragic, Just sad. I wait for a melody That won't ever come, And roll over in my grave To try and get some sleep. My own poetry Tastes like pomegranate seeds And echoes with the force Of my cavernous despair. I am not Orpheus And I am not Eurydice For my hubris Sings with longing And plummets like Icarus. Did he suffer Or was that the burden of Daedalus alone? Daedalus alone Carried on that story. A father's grief Enough that we remember the name Icarus, A name he carried back to shore. A warning tale Or tragedy Neither meant to be. Just A father's grief. My life is not a tragedy, Just sad. So maybe my wings will hold To the other side. So maybe I won't look back This time. So maybe, Through the gods, Or luck, Or plain common sense I'll live to the end. Because I am not Orpheus, And I am not Eurydice. Comments are closed.
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Unless otherwise noted, all pictures used are open-source images in the public domain. Archives
September 2023
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