Should I sink or swim?
The question filled my mind,
as if I had a choice to be made,
a killer in disguise.
Swimming was impossible,
I might have already drowned.
Sinking to the bottom,
the demons made a run.
It was ruled a
suicide,
but my dead soul did know
the demons that once controlled me
have now spread beyond the boat.
YOU ARE READING
Gentle Screams and Glass Figurines
Poetry"Nothing can protect us from the human screams, as the fire of anarchy intoxicates our once innocent minds." ~~~~~~ A collection of poems about life, death, and everything in between. Dark, deep, and horror poetry intended to make you think abou...
