Poets logo

The Pit And The Sorrow

The End Of My Story...Or Is It?

By Jason Ray Morton Published 2 years ago 1 min read
2

Opening my eyes to the sound of a scream,

the first thing I smell is the ash.

It all seems surreal, like walking in a dream,

I leave footprints showing my path.

Yesterday felt so far away,

there didn't seem to be a tomorrow.

I didn't know what to say

in this place filled with sorrow.

Feeling it I could,

like thousands of blades cutting through me.

Like a set in Hollywood,

this place, nowhere near something resembling a sea.

Flashes of lightning,

A rumble in the above,

there was nothing to fight for,

no hidden treasure trove.

Gutteral breathing I heard growing near,

footsteps telling me how close.

Bodies retching, screaming out in fear,

only one reality, the one that fits the most.

I remembered yesterday,

the things I had done.

I remember all the things at play

and seeing the barrel of that gun.

The sound was the last thing I heard,

Warm crimson flowed over my hand.

The fading tweet of a bird,

my soul leaving the land.

My sins had finally caught up with me

when I awoke.

Punished in hell for eternity,

until my spirit broke.

Taken to my final judgment,

ferried through hell on this boat.

surreal poetry
2

About the Creator

Jason Ray Morton

I have always enjoyed writing and exploring new ideas, new beliefs, and the dreams that rattle around inside my head. I have enjoyed the current state of science, human progress, fantasy and existence and write about them when I can.

Reader insights

Be the first to share your insights about this piece.

How does it work?

Add your insights

Comments

There are no comments for this story

Be the first to respond and start the conversation.

Sign in to comment

    Find us on social media

    Miscellaneous links

    • Explore
    • Contact
    • Privacy Policy
    • Terms of Use
    • Support

    © 2024 Creatd, Inc. All Rights Reserved.