Life Is An Instigator
All of my fears and anxieties,
Enjoy to coax and haunt me.
I'll try to cry or sleep them away,
But it all seems to grow worse everyday.
And nothing can fix,
Life's annoying quirks.
All I can seem to do,
Is box my emotions in little crates.
When I fill them as high as they will go,
This eventually causes my top to blow.
Like Mount St. Helens,
I hurt others,
Just as much as I hurt myself.
Then I hate myself,
For hurting others,
Because I am unstable.
Then I cry ashes.
This is the only way I can clean my slate.
For you have to destroy something,
Before you can make it great.
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (The Road Of Life by Trystin Delay )
Top 500 Poems
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley