I miss all my friends
The memory that never ends
Hoping to make amends
But the guilt always tends
Where are the words
Flying from me like the birds
What happened to the good times
Coated in the past rhymes
Twisting my face like the limes
Now I’m silent like the mimes
When the fear leaves what are you left with
When the sadness hits how do you cope
Feeling like a dog stuck at the end of a rope
When will all these emotions just elope
It all just seems like a never ending trope
Somebody get me out of this depression session
About the Creator
Tangerinehippiestudios
☮️Inspired by the inspiration around me☮️Get inspired to change the world☮️Or take a look at mine☮️My aura is orange and bleeds throughout my words☮️
Keep reading
More stories from Tangerinehippiestudios and writers in Poets and other communities.
Six Feet Under
Buried alive. What a horrible way to go. Yazz lay there, in her own thoughts. What else could she do? She was hungry, thirsty, tired, mentally, and physically exhausted, and more than anything, she was bored. She hoped she would die of boredom before anything else, anything else would've been more painful. Like many people had, she and her friends had talked about what they reckon the worst ways to die were, it was a morbid subject, but it came up every now and again. Yazz had always been one to argue her point on drowning, others had mentioned burning alive, slowly and painfully bleeding to death, hung drawn and quartered, and being starved to death. It was strange that none of them had considered being buried alive, it had never come up. But now, she was thinking back to those conversations her and her friends had had, how could they have not thought about it? It took a lot longer than the others, you were completely confined, you couldn't move or do anything, you just had to wait, until your body was physically unable to support a life system anymore, which could take up to four days. Four! By far the longest out of all of them. She recounted some of these conversations just to try and pass the time, anything to pass the time. It was difficult to know how much time had passed since she had been underground, it was difficult to know anything. There were many things that Yazz didn't know, she didn't know where she was, she didn't know how she'd got into the coffin, she'd just woken up there. Yazz also didn't know what time it was, or even what day it was, she guessed at Tuesday, it was Sunday evening when she'd been buried alive, intentionally, and although it had felt like weeks had passed, she was still alive, which means she hadn't died from dehydration, and therefore it couldn't have been more than four days.
By Liam Storma day ago in Fiction
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.