Poetry from Alma Ryan

a mind in a marble


in an echoing, wide open world far far away from you, i run.

only then 

to stop suddenly.

and a shout rings out as i cry in circles…


turning into a tune, that begins to play,

splintering from the last letters of scream.


 and I'm thrown into a nightmare.

my breaths beating,

unsteady.


imagining the end,

of everything.

the tune,

the world,

the screams,

my life,

you.


who waits at the end,

holding a gift wrapped in red,

that melts when i reach out

causing the iron stench of blood

to pinch my mouth

from nowhere and everywhere

all at once.


this isnt something i want.

just something given to me,

something expected of me,

but not quite 

not yet

me.


nevertheless,

i take this gift for now.

because something else

red

taints my vision.



love or possibly hate

for the tune,

the world,

the screams,

my life,

you.



who has,

given everything,

knows everything,

loves everything.

just as i will.



but you, are not quite,

and never will be

me.