Score |
15
Student @ Babcock University
GRAPHITE
<p><strong><em>There is a pencil on the desk,</em></strong></p><p><strong><em>but the canvas is your skin—</em></strong></p><p><strong><em>a quiet battlefield where no one</em></strong></p><p><strong><em>hears the clash except you.</em></strong></p><p><strong><em><br/></em></strong></p><p><strong><em>Scars of war, written in pale, raised lines,</em></strong></p><p><strong><em>a language carved when words wouldn’t come.</em></strong></p><p><strong><em>Depression drags its heavy coat behind you,</em></strong></p><p><strong><em>Anxiety coils tight around your lungs,</em></strong></p><p><strong><em>and the rest—</em></strong></p><p><strong><em>the rest has no name</em></strong></p><p><strong><em>but still takes up space.</em></strong></p><p><strong><em><br/></em></strong></p><p><strong><em>You trace each mark like a historian</em></strong></p><p><strong><em>studying ruins,</em></strong></p><p><strong><em>trying to remember</em></strong></p><p><strong><em>or trying to forget—</em></strong></p><p><strong><em>it doesn’t matter which.</em></strong></p><p><strong><em>Both hurt the same.</em></strong></p><p><strong><em><br/></em></strong></p><p><strong><em>And so the pencil stays untouched,</em></strong></p><p><strong><em>the paper stays clean,</em></strong></p><p><strong><em>and the story continues</em></strong></p><p><strong><em>where no one can see it,</em></strong></p><p><strong><em>etched deeper, darker—</em></strong></p><p><strong><em>a private record of the war</em></strong></p><p><strong><em>you’re still losing.</em></strong></p>
8
Other insights from David Lilly-West
Comments