The slight creak of the wooden floors.
The merry chirps of the singing birds.
The faded motor running in the distance.
The drop of water falling every minute.
Yet the sudden boom of voices
Turn louder with every second.
Words turning into a butcher knife
Slicing the soft noises into discarded fragments.
The voices come closer as they vibrate in my head.
Turning their bloodied knives towards me,
And carving me out like a pumpkin on Halloween.
The sweet soft noises are left in a heap
Next to my discard body.
Why did my life turn out like this?
YOU ARE READING
The Unexpected
PoetryA collection of poems about my life, my feelings, my thoughts, basically about me. It's the things I don't ever speak of but write down instead. Warning: some poems may trigger you so read at caution A/N: They're not the best since I just write them...
