Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
May 2019
It's a strange thing to look inside yourself
and see darkness, black oil bubbling
with animal feathers floating,
drowning  in the thick.
I feel like a well, with nothing but depth
with no one to pull me out, no rope
to even hang myself with.
When you sit in the darkness
with wings too sticky to fly out
you see faces and reflections
that take your mind and stretch it
into unrecognizable shapes.
I am stuck in the oil
of my compressed stress.
I have been having incredibly dark thoughts
Ed C
Written by
Ed C  22/NYC
(22/NYC)   
  1.3k
         Anna-Marie Rose, Jaxey, N, kieran dacey boylan, Fawn and 2 others
Please log in to view and add comments on poems