October 19, 2017

Candle wax seeps into my wooden floors..
It is quiet here
I think that I am safe.

[. . . ]

The walls are yelling at me again.
It’s routine now.
The tension here is strangling me

I don’t like the Monster outside.
A face is that of melting candles.
I see them, they visit me here.
I try to run but the man in the hat brings me back..
The rope hanging in my closet failed to take me away from this place.
It’s Grey and in black trousers.
It comes in here at night.
I can feel it standing over me
I know what it will do if I scream.. so I don’t.

[. . . ]

It leaves me here.. Sore.. Weak. Paralyzed in my own sheets
Red marks on my wrists,
Tears in my eyes,
I lay here open
It took something of mine..
My Red Lace.

Similar Articles


This article has 0 comments.


MacMillan Books

Aspiring Writer? Take Our Online Course!