Pumpkin heads and broken dreams,
flickering lights and chilling screams.
Spirals and dead fish,
a smell so horrid.
Your hands are sweaty,
I'm losing my grip,
I'm afraid that I'll lose you in the dark,
if I let go now.
You're gone,
I'm alone.
The air is cold,
the land is still.
It's so surreal,
that none of this feels real.
Our first Halloween together,
and now we are apart.
The pumpkin heads are back,
prowling in the night,
I hold my breath,
and grip my chest.
They've seen me,
I'm dead,
I run and run,
but I'm out of breath.
Filled with dread,
I keep running straight,
I feel a hand pull me back,
I wasn't looking, old pumpkin head.
YOU ARE READING
Sertraline
PoetryHUGE TRIGGER WARNING FOR THIS ONE - Themes include: Drug Use and Overdose, Suicide and Depression, Self-harm and Abuse. [PLEASE READ WITH CAUTION]
