Do not ask the price I paid,
I must live with my quiet rage.
Screaming thoughts inside my head
that run riot and wish me dead.
Do not wonder you're here,
or why this world's not without fear.
Darkness beckons, darkness calls,
Just spread your wings and learn to fall.
Do not smile and wish me hope
like I am stable and I can cope.
I'll stumble on words and fall on down,
it's in my lies that I do drown.
Do not think that I am 'fine'.
It's on my wrists I draw the line.
The devil sits on my shoulder,
and everyday I'm growing colder.
Empty rooms and empty chairs
Echoing voices, haunted fairs,
Crying children, silent babes,
It's with the devil my pact was made.
It's calm afterwards, inside my brain.
The fever's gone, there's no pain.
I tell my friend; she knows this hurt.
"Promise me," she says. And I give my word.
So, do not ask the price I paid,
I must live with my quiet rage.
Screaming thoughts inside my head
that run riot and wish me dead.
YOU ARE READING
Screaming off the Cliff
PoetryPoetry assembled from the very depths of a deranged mind. Trigger warning. Tragedy ensues.
