A journey into the land of
Dust coated cobwebs
And cracked wooden chests,
Spilling mystery.
Glassy eyes in silken bags
Blink accusingly
At those who stumble upon them
Like it was they who
Cut them from their sockets
Leather bound books
Defy decomposition with
Worn, stiff covers.
The volumes hold more than
I will ever be able to carry.
Their air is one of superiority,
Of knowing.
Here,
There are trap doors that
I spill easily into.
There are glass jars and
Mouse traps
And old, broken parts.
A film camera
A crib with cracks in the legs
A faded wedding album.
And there is danger here, too.
The danger in knowing what
One should not know.
It is a tedious game, playing god.
A taste of a life you can't live
Is enough
To poison you.
YOU ARE READING
We Write for Fear of Silence
Poetry{My soul put into words. Writing is how I put myself back together again. Writing is how I love.} **all poems are mine** HIGHEST RANKING: #30 IN POETRY & #1 IN TEEN POETRY
