Echoes of Life (a Raven’s Awakening poem)

I find poetry a great way to climb into a new character’s mind, and Raven’s Awakening is a WIP I have that is quite different from the rest of my books. It’s much darker, more intense. Raven’s punishment for deeds done in a past life gives her a rather dark perspective… 

Echoes of Life
(Raven’s Awakening)

 

I spend every day of my life pretending to be okay,
pretending to be normal.
I play the role of a lifetime, acting as though I’m not empty inside.
As though I don’t have an abyss in my chest where my heart is supposed to be.
As if my soul isn’t utterly broken.

I smile. I laugh.
I go home and try to breathe as the memory of what another’s skin against my own feels like, beats at me relentlessly, like the waves on an angry shore.

This is my life.
How can I not question why I even go on?
Even my vast imagination, which can conjure things in my dreams that would rival any fiction, can’t imagine such a foreign ideal as finding happiness.

I am forever alone. I am other.
I’ve heard it said that you can die from a broken heart, but what if you were born with a broken heart?
Were you ever really alive to begin with?

Regardless, I do not fear death, for it certainly couldn’t be more painful than life.
The horrors of life have inoculated me to the terrors of death.
Am I to be pitied or envied?

-Sarah Marsh

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Sweet Release

Sweet Release

I could appreciate the sweetness of his words, and the thoughtfulness of his actions.

But it was his darker attributes that captivated me the most.

They set fire to my imagination and ignited my body in a way nothing else ever had.

His dominance stripped me of every shred of my self-control; remaking me into someone I hadn’t even known had been waiting inside.

Releasing the thoughts and needs that had been buried so deep.

Leaving nothing but a ravenous desire to drop to my knees and submit in every way he would ask of me.

***

I write poetry when new characters are starting to percolate in my mind, I hope you enjoy this one!

Sarah.

The Hunt

The Hunt

As the winter fades and the night air is rich with new life,

She stirs again within.

The warm darkness is like silk against my skin,

Coaxing her closer and closer to the surface.

 

She aches to be set free to join the hunt,

To raise her face to the moon in adoration,

To feel the power of the earth beneath her feet.

 

Oh how I long to set her free, this beast inside.

If only for a moment.

The temptation to leave my world behind and lose myself is so strong on nights like these it leaves me breathless.

 

My biggest fear is that once she gets a taste of freedom, there will be no returning to the life before.

I fear the freedom, I fear the power, for with it comes violent instincts long repressed.

 

Would she ever give me back control?

Or even worse, would I even want it?

Skinwalker

Skinwalker

 

You shouldn’t have hoped that one would see who you are.

They only see what you show them. Thank the Gods for that.

The different don’t belong.

You don’t belong.

 

You wouldn’t be able to control your hunger.

You’d lose yourself.

They’d judge.

You’d regret.

 

Regret is such an awful pain, it follows so closely.

It’s always nipping at your heels, tempting you to kick at it so it can justify the bite.

Can’t it just leave you to your loneliness for a moment?

Has pain no respect for pain?