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Losing Yesterday

by Morrigun


When I was a child
My universe was endless,
But it never reached farther
Than my father's arms could.

I dreamt of strangers
Dressed like mothers,
With freckled cheeks and half a smile
Who kissed their kids goodnight.

I danced with the wind
And pretended it could carry me away.
I climbed in the trees
And felt the entire earth beneath me
Smaller than me but still
Too big to see beyond the fence.

Heaven was always up, and
Hell was only down if you
Looked too hard.

When I was a child,
The woods at midnight
Were full of fairies and elves
Who made acorn hats and
Little flower dresses.

I had a cottage in my head
Filled with doors that
Led to all the lives
I ever dreamt of living.
A doctor, a painter,
A teacher or mother.
Perhaps I could even
Be a mermaid some day.

When I was a child,
I didn't know that the stars
Were dead before I said hello
And the moon only cried
Because I was crying too.

I didn't see the pain
In my grandma's eyes, because
She was my surrogate of sadness
When I was too light to drown in it. 

I didn't know that kisses
Couldn't heal my scars, or that
Heaven was on the outside
And hell was a darkened
Room in every heart. 

I didn't understand that
Tomorrow never really comes.

But I'm growing up,
And I see the fence is six feet tall.
I know strangers don't visit
Their kids on the holidays.

I see my father's arms,
Holding onto memories of me
From before I got too heavy
For the wind to carry me away.
Maybe in another life
I could stitch them
Back into my soul and
Try to reach the clouds.

I'm growing up,
And the moon doesn't cry
But I still do, and now
I look at grandma and her eyes
Are so tired, because
She tried to carry all my
Suffering to term for me.

No one told me there were colors
That couldn't fit inside the crayon box,
But here I am with shades
Of anxiety on my skin and
Hues of depression leaking
From the corner of my eyes.

My little cottage is now
A forest of doors that open to lives
I'm not brave enough to lead.
Lives that passerby fall into
Feet first and headstrong.

I'm all grown up,
And I see it is not the world,
But me, that is small.
And when I shout at walls
They still echo just the same,
But it doesn't make me feel
Like I'm atop the mountains.
Instead, I feel the voices fold
Over me again and again until
I drown myself out. 

As kids we raced for fun,
But now I run because I am afraid.

I have grown old,
Even though I do not  know
Any more than I did in the
Many years before.

I have grown old because
I'm too busy making lists and
Locking doors to notice
The fairies in the woods
And the gust of wind that
Made me skip for just a moment,
Lighter than I've been in years.

Old because being the doctor and the
Teacher aren't about doing what I love,
But how the numbers stack
So that they'll be in my favor.

I am far too lost
In medicine bottles and
Politics to climb a tree
And make the world smaller
Than me for just an hour.


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Points: 151
Reviews: 3

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Fri Jan 06, 2017 11:41 pm
AlexSmith6613 wrote a review...



Hi Morgan, I really like what you have brought to the table. I enjoyed reading how innocent you are when you are a child and grow up and face society. I to suffer from depression, this poem really hit home to me.
However, I do feel like you could use some stanzas in this piece. Also, your transitions from one subject to another are a little rough. For example the part below.
"Filled with doors that led
To every kind of life that
I ever dreamt to live.
The doctor and painter,
The teacher and mother,
And don't forget the chance
Of growing up to be a mermaid."
The transition to the doctor and painter may seem a little confusing.
Finally, I loved the way you compared depression and anxiety to colors. It really brought a different look on it. I'm glad I got to read this today. Thank you for writing this and keep up the good work.




Morrigun says...


Thank you for your review!! :D

That definitely is a part I wasn't quite satisfied with the way it sounded, but was one of the things I just needed to have in there for my own personal reasoning. I'm sure as you have stated you also suffer depression you can understand sometimes things need to be said even if they don't 100% make it to the page. I considered changing it to "Filled with doors that led / to every kind of life / I ever dreamt of living. / A doctor, a painter, / A teacher or mother. / Perhaps I could even / be a mermaid one day."

I'm glad you enjoyed the bit of imagery, and I am very grateful for your review. Thank you very much.



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9 Reviews


Points: 420
Reviews: 9

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Fri Jan 06, 2017 7:47 am
thanataphobic says...



This is beautiful.




Morrigun says...


Thank you very much, I appreciate it.



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Points: 29861
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Thu Jan 05, 2017 12:45 am
niteowl wrote a review...



Hi there Morrigun and welcome to YWS! Niteowl here to review.

As far as the message of this poem goes, I can definitely relate. I think you have a strong theme and imagery here. However, I feel like it goes on for a long time, perhaps too long. This is the kind of poem where I'd usually suggest making cuts, but it's hard to decide what should stay and what should go.

I dreamt of strangers
Dressed like mothers,
With freckled cheeks and half a smile
Who kissed their kids goodnight.


I know strangers don't visit
Their kids on the holidays.


No one told me there were colors
That couldn't fit inside the crayon box,
But here I am with shades
Of anxiety on my skin and
Hues of depression leaking
From the corner of my eyes.


At a glance, these are the sections I want to cut. The first two are because I don't really get the metaphor about the strangers and I don't think it adds much to the poem. The last one isn't bad, but I just feel like you have stronger imagery conveying these emotions throughout the second half of the poem. I would look at every image/metaphor/line in this with a critical eye and decide which ones you really want to focus on. I know this isn't easy. Heck, just yesterday I was writing a poem and wrote a line I really liked, but ultimately had to cut because it wasn't fitting the piece.

Lastly, I really think this needs stanzas. Reading a big block of text is unappealing. Also, I think it would make the parallels between the first and second half of the poem that much clearer. If you're having trouble with the Publishing Center and stanzas (it's a common bug), try some of the tricks here: How to Format Poetry.

Overall, this has a strong theme and a lot of good imagery. Keep writing! :)




Morrigun says...


Thank you kindly for your review! It's much appreciated. I don't think I'll be taking anything out. From the perspective of getting this poem somewhere I wholly agree, it would do with a trim. If I had intents of publishing you make superb suggestions. As it stands, it was a long-coming outlet of a lot of things I have been meaning to say but have been unable to. So I think for it's purpose it does me better to keep it whole. :D

If you are interested, the first two sections you quoted were in relation specifically to my mother, who left my brother and I when we were children. Thus her being a stranger, and not visiting on the holidays. The third quote is a reference to me, as an artist, using art as an outlet for suicidal tendencies. Writing all over my skin and such. I had an art installation where I did watercolors but with tears as well.

Thank you for that link! Even though I have been a part of this site for years I actually have trouble with the publishing center from time to time. Thank you again for your review and I appreciate it greatly!!



Morrigun says...


I wanted to say thanks again for that link, it helped me make some stanzas!



niteowl says...


No problem! I know it's tricky. And the stanzas definitely make it easier to read. :D




That there's some good in this world, Mr Frodo - and it's worth fighting for.
— Samwise Gamgee