Can you hear, can you hear?
Those screams inside my head.
I just might, I just might
Already be dead.
Can you feel, can you feel?
Fingers brush my skin.
And I can, and I can
Feel them closing in.
Can you taste, can you taste?
Dusty, cloying smog.
And I can't, and I can't
Taste anything.
Can you smell, can you smell?
Decay and rotting flesh.
Yes I know, yes I know
It doesn't smell very fresh.
Can you see, can you see?
The shadows creep closer to me.
Someone help, someone help
They've come to make me bleed.
YOU ARE READING
Pulvis et Umbra
Poetrywe write our stories on the silver black clear canvasses of our lives these are my stories i build them so you can relate and perhaps we won't be so alone *** "I really love these poems. They help me find myself in worlds where there is no one lef...
