The desolate wind howling
Flinging the dead leaves from the dry ground
Anything to feel something.
The endless stretch of dark moors
Deep shadows in the opitemy of dusk.
Is this where it ends?
Trudging on, down the path
Of no lights. Just darkness.
My darkness.
Covering my eyes.
Leading me awry.
And I stumbled, many times.
Or maybe I was pushed.
No one could tell, as to all I was perfectly fine.
An ordinary soul, capable of this life.
My companions sway.
Till only their branches remain.
Like fallen warriors.
It's like walking through a graveyard.
And the tears I cried,
That no one ever saw.
But when they did see, all they did was leave me.
Alone.
From the ground swirl memories,
Clouds of mist, colour,
Were they all in my head?
And they wonder why I left,
Perhaps you do too.
Darkness causes reality to hallucinate.
All light indistinguishable.
Infected.
Now I spread like decay to all I met,
Knew,
Saw,
Touched,
And loved.
Including you.
Some diseases cannot be cured.
Especially when left to rot.
Like me.
So by the time you saw,
If you even did at all.
It's too late.
While determining where this affliction
Was contracted,
I strain along the desolate path.
My thoughts my only company.
To follow down this path.
Where no one dares to stray,
Lest they fall,
Into my void.
YOU ARE READING
My Book of Poetry
PoetryWelcome to my collection of poems, these are all my own original poems, some written in five minutes; others were work in progress for months. I hope you enjoy their stories within them unfold: the happy, the sad and all the others in between. Feedb...
