Whispers in the night,
so hushed,
so quick,
scurrying along like little mice.
I could feel the little warmth of their voices on my skin,
The tone was something inviting and helpful,
And I lay here and wait;
too weak to even dream,
So I close my eyes,
feeling the lift of someone's arms eloping me inside,
Strong arms taking me inside,
I could feel their faint heartbeat underneath layers of cloth.
Where was I going?
I tried to open my mouth,
no words came out.
I was sore,
I was hurt,
I was taken apart;
left here to rot.
But I think I was being saved as I was layed onto something hard.
It wasn't another street;
that I know.
No more black, wet pavement.
Who was this?
Was it the police? Was it Ronnie?
Oh please, help me.
YOU ARE READING
My Monster
PoetryHer name was Skylar. And she was addicted. Her substance: Meth/Crank/Glass... whatever you call it, it still screws you up in more ways than one. But after seventeen years of trying to be Ms.Perfect in an unstable family, is this really what she wan...
