Another day, another dollar. If this is true, than why am I still here? Lost in my pit of despair, with no hands to help? I no longer know which way is up, and the cries urge me out of my sanity. I'm never leaving, am I? Why am I such a slave to myself? Positivity banished from here, and hope ran with it. Screeching and clawing, the higher I get, the lower I sink. The guilt has settled. Even on my darkest days, you would find me on the battlefield, but the world crashed around me, enclosure is my own punishment. And the last speck of light was gone. Maybe my meaningless life had meaning? I would have given that dollar a day to keep my world from falling. But the warning came too late, I was too far gone, no return. In my final days I realize, that last speck of light was my world, destined to vanish, like me. Carry on wounded soldiers, fight for what you have, not what you've lost. Or the guilt will find you, and put you here, your own nightmare.
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Author:
A Silver Sky (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: July 16th, 2016 13:05
- Category: Letter
- Views: 25
- User favorite of this poem: AlitaOpal.
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Comments3
At a point in my life this is what I had gone through inside of myself..
It struck some emotional chords, I can honestly say that Life has truly humbled me on so many levels..
Beautiful piece 💐💐💐
Great write
Interesting piece!
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