Five Poems by Madelyn Morrissey

 

1953

My teacher was lecturing me on Samuel Beckett,

More specifically,

His play Waiting for Godot.

He talked plainly,

He explained how we are always in the process of waiting.

We wait for class to start,

Waiting for class to end,

for them to pick up the phone,

We wait for our lives to begin, And then to end.

We will always be holding out,

Hoping our future is better, but inevitably, its always the same-

We will always be waiting for something.

 

Dormancy

There are many kinds of lonely-

Like a dormant virus it spreads,

But it never leaves.

The sad lonely is not true loneliness,

Only what the brain perceives as being alone.

The Im scared lonely is worse-

You’re scared, sad, and nobody knows how to help.

But true loneliness, it is indescribable.

It’s when relying on anyone or anything is impossible

Because-

Because it’s not there for you anymore.

 

Salt

I weep with myself,

Not for myself.

I weep for the kids just like me,

The ones who rate and rake themselves,

The ones who live life knowing

That the person they are,

Is a ‘problem’ sitting in their own head.

The constant need to impress,

But there’s a certain way we need to dress,

We hope that we don’t get outed,

But the wallpaper covered mould

Is what kept our home from sprouting.

 

My fault

I wanna take it all back,

And have my old friend.

Sitting on the lawn,

With her head in my hands.

I want to sit on the curb,

And tell you I miss you,

And not make me hate myself

For saying that.

I wanna take it all back,

And sit on your bed.

I want to see how you saw me

Before we became an end.

 

Poem

Lucky is the one who lives unaware,

The one who doesn’t have to worry about a care,

One who doesn’t get bothered

By how his life is unfair.

Unlucky her,

Her life’s turned around,

All because her brain’s abound.

She fights to choose the changes,

With her wounding and such,

But she is just unlucky her,

Aware of the pain,

Knowing of the addiction in her brain.

 

I must’ve missed the memo.

The strategy sessions and witness preps,

The opening statements in which I plead my case,

But what case is there to give

When her life is far to outlived.

“Taking your own life,”

Such an interesting turn of phrase.

From whom did he take it from?

Once it’s over,

How can he be the one to miss it?

His own death,

It’s something that happened to everybody else.

And your life is not your own to take,

It’s your own to move, watch and touch,

But keep your hands away from the end of it.

Madelyn Morrissey is a nonbinary poet from New England, some of their work has been previously published and they currently go to school for theatre. Their poetry discusses a variety of topics from activism, dealing with death, and mental health struggles amongst other topics.