The clock on my wall strikes the hour twelve
Welcome to my living hell
When my demons come out and feed me lies
With nasty smiles and dead soul less eyes
As the minutes tick by I listen in dread
Their mission, as always, is to leave me dead
The hand of luck gave me black, a spade
The hand of my demons give my hand a blade
They urge me to injure then beg for more
Soon ill be lying dead on the floor
But no one is listening to hear my cry
This is the night I will surely die
But yet I awake at the nights end
The voices gone the cuts my friend
I last through the day
Dragging myself all the way
Now only minutes till the hour twelve
Welcome to my living hell
(E.B)
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Deadly Games
PoetryPoems about depression, failed relationships, and other mental illnesses.
