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Was just in a Poe type of mood. Not horror, but dark. |
Alone A short story in a poem. A poem of madness. I feel alone. Almost by myself. As if no one was here, I've been put up onto a shelf. The noises, I can hear. Yet, I don't make a sound. I try screaming, But nothing comes out. I feel trapped, In my own personal hell, With all of these feelings of torture, I feel as if, somehow, I am a shell of my former self, Not happy or laughing, But instead, Begging, Pleading,YEARNING for help. Yet, nobody comes, As if I don't exist. They all pass by, Not even glancing, Can they not tell? I am alone and lost? I need someone now, before I die from this frost. I shout, Yet nobody listens, Well, except for one person. Myself. I yearn for someone, anyone, PLEASE?! I am already begging, down on my knees. Surely there's one person, Just one, who cares. Just one, who cares enough, just to save me from despair? Hatred, regret, I can't let it out. I have tried to beg, to plead, and even shout! I only one thing I want, an Escape. Just one way out of this state. Just a key for the lock on my cage. Depression, I feel it lurking. Like a monster it creeps, and I can feel the emotions turning, turning inside of me like a jammed cog, or gear, It is destroying me. This Pain Inside of me turns, It broils, it simmers, only to stew. Why can't anyone hear me, When I can hear all of you? It hurts, it burns, to witness all of these being dealt nothing, but desserts. Alone, alone in the dark, I sit, I wait, I churn. My Contemplation, Am I even alive? My thoughts, Here only the darkest thrive, Here, every glimpse of hope, every spark of life, gets swatted away, gets destroyed, like a fly. I slowly fall, on my downward spiral I fall further and further down, mile after mile. Madness, Past the brink of sanity, I land. I start laughing, as if it were only so grand. I chuckle, I laugh, and cry. I only know of one truth: I am going to die. Here in this place, here in my hell. This place I call home, my cozy little cell. I know I am rotting, decaying, wasting away, yet I laugh, chuckle, and play. Play with the brink of insanity, which I gladly embrace. I welcome it with open arms, and a smile upon my face. Here I sit. All alone, by myself. Up alone as if on a shelf. They bring me my pills, my sweet escape. I finally awaken from my comatose, smile on my face, and can only laugh, for I am still in this place. This asylum I call home, where the madness surrounds me every day, predictable, as if by clockwork, As if it were a metronome, in every way. TICK. TICK. TICK. Here I will stay. Every moment, of every day. How I got here, I have no recollection, Yet, it is here that I will gladly stay. Alone I was, alone I still am, but, I am now a different man. I am happy, I am always glad, I guess this is what it is like, to be mad. *******************************PLEASE RATE AND REVIEW! AS ALWAYS,THANK YOU FOR READING!******************************** |