u/Kaliyug_Intern_404

My eyes were not cursed to see sorrow.

They were cursed to believe it was all there was.

A mother kisses her child goodbye,

and I see only the terror of losing him.

Lovers dance beneath golden lights,

and I see only the day they part.

Children skip happily to school,

and I see adulthood waiting—

patient as a predator.

I see only the cracks,

never the stained glass,

nor the light that pours through it.

Others insist,

"But you see the truth."

But at what cost?

What they call a blessing

is the cruelest curse of all.-

I have stared so long into suffering

that I no longer understand the word blessing.

I see only the oldest curse:

existence itself.

The cruel thing about sorrow

is not that it exists.

It is that once you've learned its language,

every other language begins to sound like a lie.

(heyyy so another idea picked up from pintrest-- it was a poetry idea list and i founf this intruging! Critisize and help me improve pls)

A Love that rots from within:

The strange thing about dead things,

is that they don't always stop moving.

Sometimes they smile,

whisper, "I love you,"

and stare into your eyes with deep devotion,

while decay spreads beneath the skin.

They pull you into a warm embrace

while their insides grow mould.

They love with all they have.

But the question this poet ponders is:

Do they love you,

or the idea of you?

Losing you is scarier than death.

Perhaps that's why they cling to a placeholder -

a ghost of what they fear to lose.

The fear of loneliness devours their soul,

like termites flourishing beneath the floorboards,

hollowing the house from within.

(I got the idea from pinterest on a post titled "Dark peotry prompts", then i later buit the poem on my idea...i really wanted the readers to feel the chills while reading this one )