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This Cup of Poison
September 24, 2011
I sit alone in the dark, motionless ambiance of cipher. How I got here? I forgot. It’s cold. It’s really cold. I have no one…only my thoughts to occupy me. I feel a void desensitizing my brain, my body. I hate this feeling; nothingness. I feel as if life has given up on me, succumbing to death’s insatiable whispers. Fate is pulling me into my own demise. A sinister coated ball of black, poison wind smacks my face, burning it in the process. I can’t move. And then, I remember. I’m dead.
© Michelle K., Vancouver, WA
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