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Laura Utter Jan 9
Everything is flat,
Yet my heart insists to beat.
I tried to speak again today,
So my mind stopped me.
I set out to be seen again,
and found no one looking.
I write words of no meaning,
to describe what’s in my head.
Broken mirrors all around me,
Reflecting all I feel.
I tried to find myself today,
To only find I’m dead.
Laura Utter Jan 8
Awoke to find I’m too much today.
My sides too soft
My steps too loud.
Less space around, too much within
Voices thought dead resurrected today,
Voices thought gone come back to speak
To remind me that I am too much again.
Laura Utter Dec 2018
I could hear it tapping at my door.
I knew why it came here,
I knew who it was looking for.

Its presence was heavy,
My memories devoured me,
I saw the one who tapped at my door.
wanting what it took,
now looking for more,
I was the one it came here for.

Darkness returned me
It found what it came for
Then it left, shutting my door.

My head felt heavy
My darkness got loud.
I felt so alone.
I felt all I’m not right now.

I could leave through that door
To a world of no more
thoughts became darker
How long have I been staring at this door?

I feel it lurking at my door.
I hear it tapping.
Tap
Tap
Tapping on my ******* door.
Laura Utter Dec 2018
Creeeeeaaaakk..

I always hated the sound that door made.
Whether you closed it fast or slow, the sound of the creak was always the same.
A signal, warning you not to proceed.

But you weren’t scared, you’ve done this many times before, to where you can’t remember,
and the hand holding yours, is a hand you’ve held before.

And the cement steps that led to the darkness,
felt warm and so welcoming.
It felt a little bit like coming home.
That’s all I remember.

It is here I woke up
The silence awoke me,
My feet were wet and cold,
my hand no longer recognized the hand that I hold.
As if it felt that moment I realized I’m in danger,
The hand would disappear, and I was left alone.

I was frozen.
I started to scream but nothing came out.
I shook from my fear and dashed towards the stairs, as if in danger.
I always expected something to pull me back.
The door felt so far.
Laura Utter Nov 2018
The Witch of Estelle
Found her her vision.
for the Witch of Estelle found her His vision.
His vision of found
In this world for His sound.
For the Witch of Estelle, found her His Vision.

On 13th September
A fires quaint ember
Spoke what’s not spoken,
yet membered.
A mind for He sought,
with furnace for thought,
wisdom and secrets,
crafts and of demons.
All left unspoken,
yet remembered.
Laura Utter Nov 2018
I find it hard to look upon the face of my sleeping child.
All I see are all the ways I wasn’t what she needed today.
Even now, with a sleeping face,
I see peace, her innocence.
As though not wandering in a world
where not even I can protect her.
What hell, for the Mother too afraid
to look upon the face of her sleeping babe.
Laura Utter Oct 2018
They say it’s a curse, disguised as a gift.

An agreement She made with the Devil.
She danced with His darkness, and prayed for departure.
So feet, He had brought,
A treat, so She thought,
She was ready,
no surrender.

A gift’s what He gave Her,
A gift, not an offer.
For this gift bore
“conditions”.

She must suffer all thoughts,
His prisoner of dark,
Given words She must remember!
So He gave Her his pen.
Darkness, returned Her.
With a gift She could bleed,
no surrender.

Yet as He returned Her,
His ‘Secrets’, He gave Her.
The warmth of His breath
still lingers...

She summons His Darkness,
She plays with The Highest.
When Dark is too Dark
She surrenders.

For that’s how She became,
such beauty, yet ****,
That’s how He bestowed Her-
“Royal Poetess”
A comment on another site inspired me.
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