Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Oct 2011
The rain eases, heater cuts out,
all thats left is the silence.
It haunts and taunts me,
as the minutes turn to hours it grows.
Engulfing.
Like a black hole, it absorbs leaving nothing but an eerie sense,
a sense of what should be,
of what is not.
Flashes of thoughts and lightning,
go deep into my soul like a boat on the river dead.
Like a knife they drain my body, unable to escape the torment.
Something so powerful, so nothing.
Leaves me empty like the hallowed ground.
How does it hold this grasp, mentally constrained and tortured,
mocked and haunted.
How can it be,
when all it is is silence?
Written by
Chris Kapela
535
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems