As I sit silently in the corner.
And scramble in the dark;
And let it completely surround me;
I am no longer stark.
I hug my knees and then collapse,
Into the grasping hands.
I’m taken, and then I’m gone.
I dream of distant lands.
Where I can just be me.
And live alone in peace.
Where my pain, and my misery,
Will finally begin to cease.
The blood starts to run,
as the blade cuts deep.
And I break the silence,
And quietly weep.
My tears are worthless,
As they run down my cheek.
And I keep my small hiding spot.
I feel so small and weak.
YOU ARE READING
The Ghosts of my past.
PoetryLiterally, the ghosts of my past. My pain and such. Poetry from 2008-2009.