Brooke Snyder

The Call

The heartbreaking sound of the violent ringing over and over.
My mind is in a trance with the rhythm.
The sudden regrets chasing you in circles.
Don’t want to pick up,
Don’t want to believe it,
Don’t want to listen,
Don’t want to live.
Pitch black walls surround me,
they trap me,
now it’s just my thoughts and I.
That ring will ruin you’re sanity,
That ring will force your mind to question everything you think,
That ring will break you,
That ring is the ringing of death calling.

Comments1

  • FredPeyer

    Brooke, somebody (can't remember who) once said: I am not afraid of death, I just don't want to be there when he comes.
    This is a well written poem, using a great metaphor (the phone).



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