Dark Poems

No Cure

Haunted memories, burned in their brains, never to experience any release

Can't tell anyone about the invisible monster that watches them, mocks them, their inner beast

Can't speak about the vivid, heart shattering, dreams that plague them

Can't tell if they, once they know, will send them away on whim.

They wake in cold sweat, others to their own high pitch scream, some that never go to sleep...

Each with their very own personal fright

Some scared of the empty dark, others of the things that cloak themselves in lightless nights

Scared of water in all forms, scared of lightning that cracks across the sky, scared of flame, scared of sudden noise, scared of men, scared of a thousand different things...

All with their own personal broken wing

Unable to mend, unable to see the difference between what is genuine and real and what was an under the table stricken deal

Eyes that search for the evil in everything; spotting only things too good to be true. Eyes that see things in the past, so vivid, so real...

Can't tell anyone about the invisible pain

In the chest, in the heart and sprawled around their very brain

Can't tell anyone about why they have haunted eyes and grim smile,

Can't tell them why they hide away, only ever being seen in once, a very long, while

Why they never smile, laugh, or joke why they only cry, and sob, and heave.

Can't tell them why because they can't speak, can't feel, can't breathe

Because they are only ghost of whom they once were...

And there is no remedy for broken soul and heart. There is no cure.

Poem. Done. There.