Oh the words I think to swallow,
Bind them up here to wallow.
Yet venom comes from those around,
Burning into flesh with soft sound.
Oh I writhe, and hasten to run
But darkness waits instead the sun.
I fall to bottom wells of pouring wet,
Seep and sob steeped in regret,
Till waves of wash carry me down
To melt, pretend in placid crown
Of smiles and warmth, things I lack
I’m a rotted peel, I’m putrid black.
Suffocate beneath the weight
Before I find the exit gate,
And crawl out into the snow
Where moonlight casts a glow
Onto my frozen tears of snot
Till white cold is all I have got
And my skin turns blue.
What a painful hue.
Perhaps I will be tugged indoor
Warmth and blankets once more,
Where tea and patience wait.
Or perhaps that plea is late.
About the Creator
I am an author from deep East Texas with a passion for horror and fantasy, often heavily mixed together. In my spare time, when I am not writing, I draw and paint landscape and fantasy pieces. I now reside in Alaska where adventures await.