Last night she cried herself to sleep again, but it was different this time. This wasn't because of a boy or because of something somebody said. No, this time it was mainly because of herself. She could feel the thick darkness in the room enclose her, strangle her, consume her.
"Am I losing my mind?", she just so quietly whispered to herself as she felt the warm tears flowing down her cheeks. She couldn't move, it was too late. It was almost as somebody, or something, had moved into her. Her arms and her hands and her mouth and even her heart were no longer only her owns. Now her body also belonged to something strange and dangerous and unwelcoming. She could feel it burn in her chest and itching her soul. Maybe this was how she died, maybe she had been gone long before that. All she could do was to cry as she turned in to nothing but insanity.
YOU ARE READING
No More, No Less
PoetryThis collection of poems is about the journey through tough times, heartbreak, and the confusion that can occur when you try to find your own identity. Every poem is important to me in its own special way, and every poem has its own special meaning...
