My anxiety
Is literally killing me
Combat the dark force
Nov 3, 2017
Nov 3, 2017 at 6:17 PM UTC
Sometimes I can
rail against it,
sometimes it
conquers me.
Sometimes I hide
it well, other
days the fatigue
of fighting it shows.
Some people
Sympathize,
Empathize
Others say,
"Get over Yourself."
Jul 4, 2017
Jul 4, 2017 at 11:35 PM UTC
Deep down inside,
I've sacrificed
and I've tried.
Deep down inside,
tears of anguish
I have cried.
Deep down inside
my soul
it has died.
Deep down inside.
Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 5:45 PM UTC
Ghost to
my left,
ghost to
my right.
Ghost in
front, oh
what a fright.
Ghost behind
ghost all around.
How did I
get in this
ghostly town?
I look at
my hand.
What is
this?
What do
I see?
Oh my,
I can
see right
though me!
Shirley Smothers
Oct 18, 2013
Oct 18, 2013 at 3:05 PM UTC
In a creepy old house I
found a creepy old doll.
I bent to pick it up
and boy did I have a fall.
I stood up had a lump
on my head, but
otherwise alright.
I looked out the window,
day had turned to night.
I looked and looked but
did not find the doll.
I turned to leave and there
it was hanging by it's neck
against the wall.
It's creepy smile seemed to say,
"Come and play with me my friend.
We can play forever
without any end."
To get out of this house
I ran for the door.
But there was no way out.
It was not there anymore.
Through a window I
threw a heavy bust.
The window smashed and
there was a ton of dust.
I looked out the window
but there was no ground,
we seemed to be
floating in air.
I said, No, no
this just isn't fair!"
I felt a hand upon
my shoulder, I let
out a scream.
I heard someone say,
"Wake up honey
your having a dream."
I opened my eyes
to see my husbands
concerned face.
I breathed a sigh of
relief, I was in
a safe place.
My eyes grew heavy
and as I was returning
to sleep, I heard
my husband say,
"Go back to sleep
my friend,
then you
can play forever
without any end."
Shirley Smothers
Nov 14, 2012
Nov 14, 2012 at 4:42 PM UTC
Can a Mime
make a rhyme?
Sure a Mime
can make a rhyme.
But who would
hear it?
Jun 4, 2012
Jun 4, 2012 at 9:22 PM UTC
A ghostly image of a soldier
stood in the background,
as a mother with a babe in her
arms stood by a grave site.
She lowly whispered, "Father
this is your son. Son this is your
father. He gave his life so that
others might live."
Now she is alone, but she
will survive. She will raise
this child without the aid
of others. This child will
grow to be a strong man,
because his mother was strong.
Shirley Smothers
Sep 15, 2011
Sep 15, 2011 at 11:15 AM UTC