Knock, Knock [Freeverse Poetry]

In Poetry by FaythFuILeave a Comment

Knock, knock – who’s there?
I don’t know, I don’t care

But I do know, and it pains me

Because behind that door is reality

She’s waving hello, never saying goodbye,

And I hold my breath, hoping to die

But I never do, I gasp again, and there she is, I’m trapped again

Here I am, doing my best, but the knocking drives me insane

What’s going on in my brain? Is sane what I’m supposed to be, how can I even compete?

I just keep racing, the knocking, the knowing, the needing to be, what I was meant to be, and who I am, is right here, right now, but truly, who am I?

Everyone seems to know before I do, talking about me till their face is blue

You’re great, you’re lovely, you’ll do just fine, but you don’t see, my heart is on the line

My heart that heaves and grieves, that wishes to breathe

My heart that cries and roars, who’s voice is drown out by knocking on doors

I can’t stand it – I hear you, I do, but silence, sweet silence, is overdue.

For reality, she isn’t the only one knocking, which shouldn’t be so shocking, but all I think about is it stopping

Stopping for just a second, before I’m beckoned, once again, not again!

Because I open these doors, and I get pulled out, and inside, I’m crying without a doubt

But I smile, I do what I must, I try to make no fuss, because all I can do is have trust

Trust in myself, in who I am, because with me, there’s always a plan

An action, a strategy, a place that I’ll fight to be, a place where I fight reality

Because she knocks, and so do you, and yes, I always follow through

But it’s not because of expectations or qualifications, it’s because of my foundation

My place of peace, where my heart finds release

When I can work in silence, when there is no violence, just focus, refocus!

Because it’s always there in the loudness, my creative prowess 

She’s on fire, her voice is dire, and she’ll die to inspire

Alas, I do what I must as I wipe away the dust

Because it’s been awhile, my words seemingly in exile

But here I am, because I don’t give a damn, how loud the knocking seems to be

Because you know what? I’m going to be me, and in the end,

I always find where I’m supposed to be.

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