Coffin monologue: The non-rhyming rant poem

Manasvita Sukthankar

I love myself,

but which one?

Can I love the person that most hate?

Does she deserve the ache in her chest?

It feels like being trapped in a coffin alive,

like death is leaning by the doorframe.

If so,

I'd like it to carry me home,

and leave me on my bedroom floor to stay.

Maybe I feel safer in this coffin,

No one can get to me.

Maybe it's a shield that saves me,

but from whom?

The weight of this world?

I wonder how it’s bearing the weight,

It feels like it’s made of glass.

I wish to be as strong as the coffin,

but maybe it's because it's got a heart of steel too.

I don't know if I should try to escape,

Is the coffin written in my fate?

Should I bang it from the inside,

can anyone hear?

Or should I let it engulf my soul.

It already trapped my body,

I'm a corpse soon to be.

Death is more alive than the life in me,

my eyes would say the same.

I feel like if words cut me deep,

I'm not sure I'll even bleed.

Would that mean I'm dead on the inside,

Or that my heart is asleep?

When my flesh starts to rot and the worms come my way,

will they consider me supper?

Or am I unwanted in the afterlife too,

That I should've gone sooner.

Is this the hell that humans run away from?

Well I found it in this life.

I could have a party with the ghosts that haunt me.

I found something I could call my own.

The party has begun.

It’s loud in my head.

There are balloons

darker than the dreams I weave,

confetti with shimmer and silence,

candles burning like they’re coming for me,

and a cake with fractured frosting.

Maybe the worms and the ghosts could be friends.

They both feed on me, after all.

The party has come to an end.

And mine has come too.

I felt it come a lot sooner

but time warp is real.

I think these words I gather myself to spit out

are heavier than my coffin in the ground.

Maybe the Earth could put me to sleep,

and cradle me with a lullaby.

Okay,

that’s it. Good evening, good night or whenever you're reading this.

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Mentioned in this episode:

Write After: National Poetry Month with One Poem Only

Write After is a way to encourage poets to listen and write, and use National Poetry Month to highlight how listening to poetry makes us better poets. I know I write the best when I’m surrounded by beautiful poetry–it’s part of the reason I created this podcast, and I want to encourage others to share this practice. We'll get started in April. You can share to #WriteAfterOPO.

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