The Raven King

Today’s edition of The Raven’s Tales is my contribution to national poetry day and is focused on a poem called The Raven King. The Raven King is a name that I have given to my depression on it’s darkest days. The Raven King is my darkest, most depressive and suicidal thoughts personified. It is the personification of the mental chaos I undergo through daily, and the loss of hope, ambition and fight within me.

The Flock are the voices inside my head, which are constant and echo within me at all hours of the day and night for decades. They are a cacophony, often of dark and suicidal thoughts, and amongst them lie a few thoughts which urge me to fight, to never give up, these thoughts are known as the flame in the poem below.

The cataclysmic events that rupture below is the internal struggle within my mind and soul to keep the fight, to not give in to the depressive thoughts that plague me. Since it is a constant and never ending battle, it feels a little bit like a cataclysm, so this was the best way to describe it for me.

The epitaph, tome and grave represent my hope for the death and end of my depression, for the hope that one day I will be free of the voices and thoughts that plague me. The message within the tome indicates my belief that the struggle with depression is something that I will never truly be free of. The ghost of a rose represents my fleeting thoughts of hope amongst all the dark thoughts, that one day, things will be alright, that I will be happy.

This has been a very emotive piece for me to write and I hope you all enjoy it.

Until next time,
The Raven


The Raven King

Rise O King, for thine hour is near,
The moment you have awaited for is almost here,
Your Flock awaits you with baited breath,
Wondering if you have resisted the urge of death,
Vociferous voices that still lie within,
Yelling, screaming for The Raven King…

The Raven, became The Raven King when darkness arose,
When grief and anguish no longer became sated by prose,
A thousand voices echoes within The Raven’s head,
As he ascends to the throne of the tormented dead,
Suicidal thoughts encircle The Raven’s mind,
There is no solace for him to find,
Cataclysmic events rupture below,
As the darkness in The Raven’s eyes starts to grow…

The Raven’s epitaph should read Rest In Peace,
But even in the silence of night, the voices do not cease,
Do you know what it means to hear the echoes in your head,
Especially when those echoes believed you should be dead,
Fire burns within The Raven’s soul,
A smouldering flame that desires for him to be whole,
Instead The Raven remains broken within,
And thus he ascends and becomes The Raven King…

Sitting upon the throne adorned with black thorns and cracked stones,
The Raven looks down towards the gore and crushed bones,
That encircles the throne, visible in absence of light,
As The Flock rises and takes flight,
The Raven’s call echoes throughout the hollowed cave,
And he takes flight, heading towards an unmarked grave,
Beside the grave lies an old ancient tome,
Written upon it are the words, “welcome home,
This O King is where you belong,
The echoes you hear are now your cacophonous song…”

The Raven continues to fly towards the light that does gleam,
Hoping for a nightmare instead of a dream,
Dreams are painful when you know they can never come true,
For The Raven the skies are eternally dark, and never blue,
The Raven once again lands on the tree of the damned,
Muddled within the voices, his hopes and dreams are crammed,
They are vain, fleeting, a ghost of a rose,
And so The Raven recites his mournful prose,
For once again he finds himself far worse than ever before,
Far darker and deeper than the days of yore,
Closing his eyes, he sighs and speaks the words of ancient lore,
Quoth The Raven, Nevermore…

Written by The Raven –  06/10/2016 ©


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