On vacant days and dulled pain
The darkness wraps itself around you
Almost enough to feel the lack of air in my lungs
The kind of suffocation that I'm so used to
Some might say it's as reliable as the seasons.
One might say it's a comforting feeling
Playing with the devil in the face of a hollow heart
Whilst others wait at the hands of evil to twist their souls
And wring out the essence of what was already torn apart
Despite the choice we make though, we shatter nonetheless
The illusion of autonomy no longer wins the game
And the darkness turns on the switch we keep hidden away
And ultimately, we become darkness itself, one and the same.
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Silent Mind
PoetryA collection of poems, prose, maybe short stories. Heartbreak, loss of self, grief...
