If it is not Poetry, then maybe it is Prose. |
Brief Description: I don't really know what it is yet.Words in my head trying to get out... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The tangled cobwebs in my lonely soul floating lost in a corner of my mind where fear of loosing, never loving is a death in itself. Depression creeping in making my life whirl in the confusion of what is real, what can I hold onto in search for inner peace. Grasping, clawing, crying out inside where no one can hear my silent scream of loss, echoing inside of me as my heart beats, a living death. Closing myself away from all living things, for I suffocate breathing the same air as the living, for my mind can find no reason to breathe. Turning in circles, spinning, out of control as my soul bleeds, my tears fall, hot, burning my skin, I welcome the pain. Falling to my knees, tearing my hair, searching my mind for a reason, for there must be a reason there, somewhere, if I can just think. Alone, no one hears, no one to touch, crying, my heart broken, my spirit beaten, I cry, cry so hard I can not breathe. Turn off the cobwebs, for I can not think about these things anymore for fear that I will again be swallowed, I am not strong enough for this yet. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Note: This is the first copyright and creation date for this item. © Copyright 2002 ~Lady Bee~ (UN: brendakay at Writing.Com). All rights reserved. ~Lady Bee~ has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work. Created: 1:12am on 03-14-2002 Note: This is the new copyright when changed to a book format within Writing.Com |