The Dead of Night

February 20, 2009
Custom User Avatar
More by this author
Lost, alone, scared.
The wind blows gently,
The branches hit the window,
The darkness devours.

Empty, pained, numb.
The clock blinks 3:15 A.M.
The night whispers.
The sadness shouts.

Confused, wary, determined.
A blade, a gun, pills?
Choices that haunt us,
Decisions difficult to make.

A tear, a smile, laughter.
Salty, sweet, endless.
A stop sign means stop,
But seeing green means go.

Dead, cold, alive.
The pain halts.
Emptiness fades away.
A spirit murmurs goodbye.





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback