maternity

[shut ember]

Bump, Set, Hit

On the other side, it must be great—
The cadence, the rhythm, the perfect state.
But me, I wouldn’t know that flow,
The one receiving it, those fatal blows, endlessly from down below.

Beyond the net, they soar and fly,
Breaking free, reaching high.
How wonderful it all must seem,
While I remain here, lost in a dream.
Pick me up, lay me in bed, while I remain lost in my head.

Why must you trap me down below?
Wrists stained red, bruises show.
Day by day, you pick me apart—
Piece by piece, you’ve torn my heart.

Now I lie here, body bruised and cold,
Falling silent as the story’s told.
Dissected, broken, left unsaid—
And now I’m gone; thank you mom, for now I’m dead.

[opal aspen]

This poem powerfully captures feelings of isolation and despair, using the metaphor of volleyball to convey a deeper emotional struggle. The contrast between the joy of those "soaring and flying" on the other side of the net and your own sense of entrapment creates a vivid and haunting image of longing and pain.

The line "wrists stained red, bruises show" adds a raw, visceral element that highlights the severity of the emotional turmoil. The concluding lines convey a heartbreaking sense of finality and loss, leaving the reader with a profound impact. Your exploration of these heavy themes is compelling and evocative. It's a striking and emotional piece. Great work!