Walking through a graveyard mist lifting from the ground.
I fall beside a tombstone and bash my head with a rock.
Rain pounding my dead weight to wet grass, blood streaming on the side of my face.
My heart chokes me and tears me apart not to be healed but to be reformed into someone else, something else.
Listening to the voices inside my head, letting them come out in a scream.
The rain still pounding, the grass turns a blur. The world is muted, so I have to shut my eyes to see it, to make a new one. Hearing more of the voices. The frustration builds up, the anger builds up. They tell me to run away they say to hurt myself, they taunt me to steal. They are my family waiting to steal my body.
I start to realize the pain in my skull.
What is happening to me I wonder no and then.
Forever.
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Author:
Jalso (
Offline) - Published: December 15th, 2010 12:52
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 48
- Users favorite of this poem: StormyDay, Cheeky Missy
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Comments2
I don't understand it but I like it.
It is a sad picture you've poetically painted, and by your portrayal hinted at truth....for we are all dead unless the Lord saves us, so the graveyard is only too fitting. Is the rain truth?
Thank you very much for explaining....I so wish I could say something to comfort or help, but only the Lord can deliver any of us......from the way it concludes, though, the world new or old is no deliverance, is it?
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