Prose Poetry

Discussion in 'Poet's Corner' started by Syn, Aug 12, 2012.

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  1. Syn

    Syn Well-Known Member

    I can't even hear the glass breaking over the blood in my head, I can't see the shards of the mirror casting elongated shadows over my sense of reality. The pressure under my skin ruptures, spewing forth tainted blood to wash away in a torrent of lashing rain. From deep within I feel it bursting forth, like a great gout of searing flame as self-loathing voices scream behind eyes that can't face the shards of what shattered, still holds a reflection. I can't even feel as these tears streak down my cheek, or my knees go weak. Will the gun taste blood tonight? Or will I fight the memories that consume this sight?
    Glaze the eyes that fail to close in blissful sleep. Bleed, this screaming throat till lungs fill with something more than breath after wasted breath. Die, please die this aching lonely heart that chains this lost soul to a frozen and decayed sense of self-preservation; An addiction to self-destruction. Open the eyes, to witness every broken whisper from the blood-flecked lips of what never could have been anyways. Heaven's light rejects the broken, those who cry into the cold night air as their prayers remain answered by nothing but a tense silence and dreams of falling slowly into a cold, inviting grave.
    Awakened screaming, frantically clawing at the lid of the coffin of self-hatred crafted over years of staring eyes and laughing voices, of nights spent screaming to the sky crying, why? Nights spent wanting to die, lying with tears all cried looking to the sky, screaming all the louder as a single finger won't tighten the slightest bit more, even as another raises to the sky.
  2. NYJmpMaster

    NYJmpMaster Have a question? Message Me Staff Member Forum Owner ADMIN

    very heartfelt- thank you for sharing
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