Roisin Dauth


I'm a person with to many things in my head, and not enough creativity to write them. But I hope I improve and I hope to have my pieces enjoyed.

Message from Writer

What you will find here is the product of rare instances in which I actually write something. I hope you enjoy.

I Am Not

November 25, 2018


Life, it plays away from me, in a crowded bar across the street, with a piano playing softly.
I hear muffled whispers of a lover lost to their past; stifled conversations as scores of enemies stumble pass.
In the dawning morn I can hear them shuffle outside; they echo routine as they stop and start at each crack and loosened stone without ever looking down from the sky.
They never loose themselves in the winding streets, but they never find what was left at the bottom of their bottles. 
And life, it saunters and sluggishly sways to the beat of their echoes along cobbled streets, and listens for the creak of stairs and squeaks of beds, to wait to begin again. I hear life hold it's breath each time they stir, and it makes a heartbeat that thrums across the air, leaving the sleeping souls to wait until they are sighed awake to begin their day again. 
And far away I sit and wonder if I could play life's game. Thinking I am living by breathing in the stale air of those who came before me, that I am living by seeing my reflection in bright fluorescent lights of a beaten up bathroom, thinking I have won, thinking this is it. 
And even in my solitude I can feel the allure of life, that glimpse of something in the corner of my eye. A something that shines despite the dirtied hands surrounding it.
Because life, it doesn't give and it doesn't take, it just waits. 
It doesn't move from fingertips or lean to one side.
It waits to be held, to be grasped, to be felt.
It waits to be wanted, just like everyone else.
Because life is lazy, and life is human, and so it plays away from me.
Because I, am anything but.


See History

Login or Signup to provide a comment.