In quiet moments
When there is nothing to distract
No friends
No family
No games
Or movies
I am left only with my thoughts
That torment me.
Inside I hear a crack
As something begins to break
--no, continues to break--
And for the life of me
I know not why.
Too much company
Makes me hurt
But it is so much worse
When I find myself alone.
There is no rest
And sometimes only
A faltering grip on sanity.
Where does the pain come from
And why?
I don't want to go on like this:
A kernel of self-hatred
Cradled in my chest.
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Words From the Writer's Hand
Take a peek, I dare you. But be warned: what lies within is a twining of both truth and fiction, dreams and reality, contemplation and confident fact. Be sure you are ready for their twistings, else leave scathed.
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Silver Moon Whisperer
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If you're not careful, the darkness will swallow you. Then how will you hide from me?
