On a warm quiet summer night, there's not a soul in sight.
I sit here forced to listen to the demons, can someone explain these feelings? Am I cursed to walk the in-between?
All the while I dream of light, but the darkness holds me tight.
I scream out when will this end, but the only sound that's heard is the lack of wind.
As I wish this was just a dream I realize I exist only in the in-between.
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Author:
Travis Bower (
Offline) - Published: June 26th, 2025 02:17
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 42
- Users favorite of this poem: Cheeky Missy, Soman Ragavan, Damaso, Devender Kumar
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Comments4
Quite identifiable and that space between sleep and wakefulness where trauma often resides. Nicely written in good rhyme
Very relatable write to many stuck and hemmed in by the pain, nicely expressed and written
Welcome to MPS🕊️🙏🏻
the trauma is beautifully and soulfully depicted
wonderful write
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