Midnight.
Weather cold.
On my bones jack frost has took a hold.
Walking.
By myself.
No partner, I've been left alone on the shelf.
Talking.
To my soul.
Discussing why my thoughts are as black as coal.
Noises.
Disturb my peace.
Danger my senses do release.
Caution.
I look all around.
Then quietness no more a noisy sound.
Pain.
My body bleeds.
On it a wild beast feeds.
Darkness.
With it comes death.
I inhale my last gasping breath.
- Author: Wallace ( Offline)
- Published: January 18th, 2018 01:54
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 11
Comments1
Well writ, Wallace
Thank you Aislinn.
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.