His eyes open.
----
Cold floor beneath him.
Cold moon above him.
Cold stone around him.
Cold wind on his skin.
---
He turns.
He shifts.
He hurts.
He feels.
---
He feels...
What?
---
Slowly he raises his head.
Slowly he raises his hand.
Slowly he takes in the sight, watching as
Slowly, crimson liquid drips off it.
---
Red on his skin.
Red under his nails.
Red puddle on the floor.
Red vision, fading away.
---
He remembers laughter.
He remembers annoyance.
He remembers growing disquiet.
He remembers confusion.
---
He remembers.
---
Fury pounding through him.
Keep it in. Don't let it out.
A nervous face.
"Hold on. What are you doing?"
Nothing holding him back.
"Don't ever talk to me like that!"
Horror.
"Wait! Wait! Stop!"
Feeling.
Screaming.
Red.
Black.
Nothing.
Nothing anymore.
---
His eyes widen.
His shoulders shake.
His mouth trembles.
His body crumples.
A sob escapes.
A strangled cry.
A scream of anger.
A stab of grief.
---
He drops to the ground
Sobbing,
As it all comes back.
YOU ARE READING
Scratching the Surface (Poems)
PoetryUPDATE: I wrote these when I was 13 and depressed all the time. I'm 18 now, and, fortunately, life's been going well! Unfortunately, these poems are fairly cringe, so read at your own risk. Just some poems that I write when I'm in the poetic mood...
