Silent Nights
When the night is silent, but the thoughts are loud.
I sit still, in the night
Nothing to entertain, other than a presence of eerie-incomplete thoughts
The haunting of the past creeps carelessly into the room
The ever-changing future occupies worry
The present, still, silent; over-bearing
About the Creator
Daniel Cottles
Just a Alabama hick
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Llion the Brave Version 2
Her screams diminished as Llion was dragged away from the cell. The stench in the corridor was less but there was still damp, decay, defecation, death. His feet dragged, like a raggedy puppet, the guard either side of him holding him fast. He could feel their individual fingers digging into his scant flesh, leaving their impression on his bones.
By Rachel Deeming6 days ago in Fiction
Comments (2)
wow your words really create a mood. Very well written.
Relatable. Nice poem.