Pen Paper and Agoraphobia

Andrew Charles Forrest

The wind tonight

It roars at me

I sit here, silent, silently

and think of morbid things to be

They may be true

they may be fantasy

 

The rain, it beats my window pain

The darkness lifts my one restraint

The fear that I may live again

Immortal...

Or just the same.

 

 

Get a free collection of Classic Poetry ↓

Receive the ebook in seconds 50 poems from 50 different authors


Comments +

Comments5

  • Tony36

    Great write welcome to MPS

  • Phoenix8523

    Sad...well written! Everyday I think, "do something different! " Then fear keeps me stagnant and I think, "I'll try again tomorrow. " -- phoenix

  • Fay Slimm.

    A question we all at times ask brings to a finalé this short lament. an appealing read and welcome to this friendly poetry site Lady.

  • Francesco

    This gave me the goose bumps.
    How well written. You couldn't have described this condition / moment better.
    Well done.

  • Neville

    now that is one helluva fear brother... and of truly phobic proportion... I bet ya feel much better now though having confronted it and pinned it to the page..... enjoyed and muchly Andrew.... N



To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.