My Last Climb
My Last Climb sad stories

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Autoplay OFF   •   a year ago
spoken word poem done for an assignment thought I should share it.

My Last Climb

By Josh please do not copy or take work as your own

Will this be my last climb? Will I make it past the last hurdle?

Walking up to the last place that felt like home, I began to shake with trepidation. The past is my hurdle to negotiate As I now face old memories.

Seeing the path ahead I was, somewhat happy, Yet, something stopped me from the enjoyment Which once fed my childhood memories, But now leads to my anxiety.

How can I make it to the end? How can I climb the last hurdle?

I am ready to make my final trip to The place where it first started. To the home that brought me this unease To the place where the hurdles began.

The descent before me was long, but doable. The path was old but still evoked memories. I recall falls that caused me pain And hurdles I could not overcome, then.

Will I make it to the end? Will I survive the obstacles?

The boulders in my way want me to stop. They thwart me with their solid form, Yelling at me in their stone-cold voices - ‘You can’t make it past us. You’re too weak.’

The trees block my path with their long arms, Using their branches to scratch at me. Their roots try to trip me, While prickly leaves attack me.

Who can understand what I’ve been through? Who can help me overcome my hurdles?

The storm is one of the millions of challenges I’ve had to face. Its rain couldn’t care less if it is drowning me. The wind is blowing hard, hurtful whispers, While the thunder screams loud abuse at me.

This storm is one from the past. I fall through it towards the pain. Nothing is giving me joy. And I’m so tired I don’t care anymore.

Will I get through this storm? Will I find my way once more?

No! The morning fog is hard to penetrate And my path is covered in confusion. It’s another hurdle to overcome. I’m lost again but still I need hope.

My mind is making me question my choices. Thoughts are racing and tearing me apart. The path is now rocky and uneven, But I keep going hoping it will become easier.

Then the path splits before me. Which way? That way? What way?

A physical indication tells me where to go, The last hurdle is about to be leapt over. I see it. I see my childhood home, and all the memories begin to rise.

Memories evoked Hurt fully provoked.

Hurdles old and new All hard to get through.

Oppressive memories attack And I begin to crack.

They’re blocking my path. And showing me their wrath.

Their punches cause pain, And cuts appear again.

Dark clouds of memories Surrounding like vultures.

Tears falling firm Making me squirm.

Confusion lying As lost thoughts start prying.

As bad choices rise, All making me unwise.

Why did I try climbing the hurdles? Why did I come back to face this hurt?

I realise now that I should have left the past in the past. It is too much.

Death and sorrow

For me there is no tomorrow.

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