I can hear him again...
Like a tsunami of screams colliding against the walls of my head.
Digging his nails within my eyes,
Forcing me to watch the carnage, a carnival of hues.
So much gray I begin to sink into...
Deeper...deeper...the deeper I go,
The desire to see colour start to rise.
The ache to find my newly sharpened blade
That begs for my wrist.
The subtle rend of my anxious skin.
A gentle pulse of crimson...
And the thought of that...
Makes me want to
Open a vein, experience its pain.
Remind me I'm alive, despite the living death
Im currently treading...
Do you, to, swim within the gray?
YOU ARE READING
Poems: Gade 12- Present Day
PoetryFrom another guy in the world, to you. Words that aren't spoken, but remain true. I hope you find comfort in my poetry too. A rusted connection to my reality, because honestly. I've lost it.
