In the splintered darkness of the dead of night,
Not a single star’s glow is bright.
Darkness drowns the mind,
Paranoia leaves the soul blind.
A mind infected with demons and foes;
Beaten in by a lifetime of sickening woes.
Horrors played on, night after night, even when thee closes their eyes;
Chilling whispers crescendo when the mind lies,
Shadows grow when sanity dies.
Thy mind splinters more, accompanied by a thousand cries.
Those who made thy psyche sick crack a grin;
Rotten visions of long ago forever play out as if sin.
Devils toy with the soul, forcing thee to bare too much to hold;
Forever after is the mind cold.
YOU ARE READING
Shiver
Poetryꜱʜɪᴠ·ᴇʀ /ˈꜱʜɪᴠƏʀ/ ᴠᴇʀʙ (ᴏꜰ ᴀ ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴ ᴏʀ ᴀɴɪᴍᴀʟ) ꜱʜᴀᴋᴇ ꜱʟɪɢʜᴛʟʏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴜɴᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟʟᴀʙʟʏ ᴀꜱ ᴀ ʀᴇꜱᴜʟᴛ ᴏꜰ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴄᴏʟᴅ, ꜰʀɪɢʜᴛᴇɴᴇᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴇxᴄɪᴛᴇᴅ. -- Short stories and poetry that heavily revolve around grief, death, and mental illness.
