So what is this creeping up my spine?
What is this crawling down my arm to my thighs?
What is this blowing in my face with a abrupt, hot breath?
What is this trickling down my ankles with feathery touches?
Eyes shut tight,
Figuring out this mystery,
Figuring out what is inches away from me.
Is it what I think it is?
Shiver.
Shiver.
I am shivering all over at this touch.
I feel disturbed,
Violated,
And terrified.
This mystery is teasing my clueless brain,
Lost from unknown guesses of this thing,
Or person.
What exactly can I do when there strange sensations?
Scream.
Scream.
There is a scream building inside of me, wanting to spurt out,
With a loud, high pitched sound.
My fists ball into two pale spheres as I am resisting from the urges.
The urges to hide.
The urges to run.
The urges to shout.
The urges to leap from my spot.
The urges to stomp with a rage.
The urges to let loose.
The urges to find out.
The mystery is more safe than the conclusion,
The identification,
The known,
And the solution.
If I do find out, I will not like what I see.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry of Life ✔
PoetryHave you ever felt like you were lonely or an outcast? Did you ever feel like no one understands you or you just cannot figure out your mixed emotions? Have you had feelings hidden inside of you, waiting to come out? These poems express what is...
