The darkness I can't see or hear,
Yet feel deeply.
It comes in long ropes of black,
That hang lifeless bodies from the ceiling.
The body sways a little,
When they first step off that chair.
Until the parents walk into the room,
And see their child hanging there.
The piercing scream,
Is heard around the house.
Until the father runs up the stairs,
And sees what the mother has found.
What I dread about the darkness,
Is I have no mother or father who care,
So who will find me when I die?
What if I am the one hanging there?
(I'm not depressed guys, I just like writing stuff like this when I'm sleepy)
YOU ARE READING
A Handful Of Darkness
PoetryDreams turn to nightmares, Nightmares turn to dreams. Wishes turn to fears, Or maybe that's what we believe. Tears turn to smiles, And the pain goes away. Maybe one day, You'll be okay.
