Irene Khoo
Another Sun, Another Hell
Eyes, heavy, heavy
Lids, afraid of day
Sheets made a cave
Creeps crawls within my skin, bone
Body paralysed to stone, stone.
Robins, wide-eyed, polite
Braying beaks, “my love, rise!”
Try, fragile flimsy, try
Shy, I turned around, resigned
Robins blew me sighs.
Four sharp dreadful knocks
The invited uninvited
Shut the million doors
Shut the obese curtains
Relentless, flooding through sores.
Curl-up, ball-up, hide my hide
Nervous knees, trembling fingers
Monsters smell them like a feast
They feed on my pleas
When they are done, they say
“Another sun, another hell.”
Irene Khoo is inspired to write poetry as she is moved by the power of words and the many worlds that words take her into. This poem is written based on depression and anxiety episodes. She has no formal training in writing and literature. But, poem is a place she goes to for much fun and solace.
Eyes, heavy, heavy
Lids, afraid of day
Sheets made a cave
Creeps crawls within my skin, bone
Body paralysed to stone, stone.
Robins, wide-eyed, polite
Braying beaks, “my love, rise!”
Try, fragile flimsy, try
Shy, I turned around, resigned
Robins blew me sighs.
Four sharp dreadful knocks
The invited uninvited
Shut the million doors
Shut the obese curtains
Relentless, flooding through sores.
Curl-up, ball-up, hide my hide
Nervous knees, trembling fingers
Monsters smell them like a feast
They feed on my pleas
When they are done, they say
“Another sun, another hell.”
Irene Khoo is inspired to write poetry as she is moved by the power of words and the many worlds that words take her into. This poem is written based on depression and anxiety episodes. She has no formal training in writing and literature. But, poem is a place she goes to for much fun and solace.