Numbness courses down the throat:
Slowly numbing the stomach,
The crackers off to the side staring at the ceiling.
Music fills the air:
The cello racing with the speeding beats.
Violin pounding with the thoughts.
The wind barely there to comfort.
When will things go away?
The constant fear and longing death's bed.
The voices echo reminding what has happened.
Another drink and the room gets warmer.
The thoughts won't go away ,
And the blade slowly whispers.
The liquid slowly going down cools the temperature,
But only for a minute and things get warmer.
The whispers multiply ,
Making temptation stronger than before.
Is it better than fear?
Thinking someone is right there about to kill you,
When you are the monster itself.
Bella Knoll
10:27 pm 8/05/o9
Author notes
Don't know if I should end this. A lot of things were going on. (Talking to people and checking and making sure dog is okay.)
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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I like it
This poem is very haunting. Keep the ending. A few grammar notes: line 7 it should be spelt barely (not barley)
line 9: I think it should be death's bed (instead of deaths)
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