every night.
every single night, i find myself laying in my bed. wondering the same thing i did yesterday, and they day before, why am i here? why does my mere existence cause me so much pain?
but you don't answer. you won't answer.
where are you?
i desperately need you to know that they are getting stronger, and their taunting words are beginning overcome me.
but still i listen to their tempting voices, hoping one day that i will hear yours.
telling me you will help, that we have made it this far. that we do not have to scared of ourselves anymore.
but until then i will lay wide awake.
listening for a voice, the voice that is more potent than my own.
written 1•12•17
YOU ARE READING
IMPLICATION OF DESOLATION
Poetry(PART 1) the empty rooms with no doors isn't the worst part. it's hoping that one day someone will save us from the walls that howl at us for every mistake we've made. des·o·late adjective ˈdesələt/ (of a place) deserted of people and in a state of...
