Apr 17, 2017, 4:00:01 PM Creative

The sick stench of rot

Permeates from my soul,

Like the spilled glass of juice

Across the tiles this morning.

It seeps into every crevasse,

Every wooden frame,

Until it’s made a home in my life.


Of course, life isn’t always this way.

There are sunny days;

Laughing friends;

Happy thoughts.


But come the pale moon rise,

I’ll find myself shielded

Inside my room.

My fortress of solitude,


But lonely.


Is it really a surprise

That my sheets are stained

With the faded remnants of blood;

Grown so old

That they look like the brown sores

From a festering spider bite?


And the knife hangs

From my desk table,

As a reminder of my sins;


And future.


The quiet piano music,

Sullen and defiant,

Reminds me there’s so much to live for,

Yet I cannot grasp it.


I sit there. Empty

Like a void,

Silent, quiet, and irrelevant.


And I just

And I just

And I just…


I just don’t want to be alone.


Not again,

Not anymore.

The ruthless onslaught

Of the rain’s downpour

Hammers my heart

Into the ground,

But I know

She’ll never come around.



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Published by Cassady O'Reilly-Hahn

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