www.whyville.net Dec 11, 2016 Weekly Issue



theallywa
Times Poet

No Rest

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FRONT PAGE
CREATIVE WRITING
SCIENCE
HOT TOPICS
POLITICS
HEALTH
PANDEMIC
I am awake,
drowning in the darkness that is my ceiling
trying not to turn my feelings
into something real and
I hope I am dreaming,
twice removed from reality
seemingly reeling at the thought
that these lucid movements aren't real.
I don't know if I'm screaming,
or if the sound that is pounding in my ears
is the heartbeat I run away from,
too loud to be helpful,
not loud enough to drown my thoughts.
I think that I'm still breathing,
but nothing stops the aching in my chest
as water fills my lungs
and the voices in my head scream
"I know best".
There is no rest
for someone so haunted
taken prisoner by my demons
there is a gauntlet of fear
and no hope left in my eyes.
There are no tears
for the wicked games
I've stopped to play,
My mind reeling with the possibility
of winning
for once.
There is only darkness
caught in my own mess of a head
I lose myself in the shadows around me
and fade back into a sea of insecurity.

 

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