The night hums softly, the world is still,
yet my mind runs where my heart won’t heal.
Streetlights flicker, the moon just stares,
but shadows whisper that no one cares.

I scroll through faces I used to know,
wonder if they miss me—probably no.
Messages typed but left unsent,
words too heavy, feelings bent.

The silence isn’t really mute,
it sings of dreams I can’t pursue.
Of doors that closed, of roads not walked,
of battles lost, of love uncaught.

And though the dawn is hours away,
I wonder if I’d beg it to stay.
Because another day just means one more—
where I still ache behind this door.

Holding on to the memories like a lifeline
Preventing me from the downfall to reality
This is the last strand of my sanity.

From the bright warm fields of babylon
I descend into the depths of the ocean.
Cold and frigid
Lifeless and sad.
Am I allowed to be mad?

A Heart snatched
Feelings still attached
My Mood trashed
For what?
Nothing.
Am I really guilty as sin?
Or is it just me
Forever falling short
Forever never enough.

I trace the cracks along my walls,
dreams caught in spiderweb stalls.
The world outside, a distant call,
but here I stay, behind it all.

Suitcase packed inside my mind,
yet doors won’t open, fate unkind.
Every step just turns to stone,
a bird still grounded, all alone.

Windows show the sky so wide,
but I can’t chase the changing tide.
Voices say, "someday, you'll go,"
but "someday" always whispers "no."

Nights stretch long, and walls close tight,
the moon my only guide through night.
I dream of roads I've never seen,
but wake to find I’m where I’ve been.

One day, maybe, doors will break,
chains will rust and hands won’t take.
But until then, I sit and sigh—
a caged heart longing for the sky.

When you were a kid, you had a favorite toy.
Be it a doll, a tiny truck, a car, a stuffy.
You did have one.

While you had one,
I was one.

I was played with.
Fed upon.
Made to be used and abused

Isn't it funny?
How some people are like like kids,
and Others are more like their pretty, little, shiny, toys.

"Oh mommy!" He would cry
"She is so pretty"
"So Cute"
"so wet..."

Malicious


I am not a toy
I am a real person
I am real

am I?

within the solitude of the dreadful span
of the blackened and bowed sky
the deep withered grass bends in the moonless dark
quieting the cold and murmuring earth

hushing her into fitful sleep

the air is hard
and the wind lacerates the night
razor incisions left behind
in the icy flesh of obsidian hours

open wounds howl like wolves
on the trail of prey in flight

I hunger for you
under the restless stars

And yes I do want someone
I want someone to hold me and
I want someone to hold
Someone to laugh with
Someone to cry

And yes I do want someone
I want someone to talk to and
I want someone to listen to
Someone to learn from
Someone to love

And yes I do want someone
I want someone to be with and
I want someone to be away from
Someone to watch smile or
Someone to watch frown

And yes I do want someone
I want someone to work and
I want someone to stay
Someone to help us
Someone to understand

And yes I do want someone

And I think I love an orange boy
But I think I like an lemon girl
Yet a little lime like me
Is a bit too citrusy
To have either of them like me back

And I think I want some lemonade
But I think I’d like some OJ
Yet my lime’s not sweet it’s sour
So hour after hour
They just leave me alone to sleep

His senses hold him prisoner,  
Overwhelmed and alone.  
The walls are his burden;  
The light, too much to bear.  

The soaked linen of yesterday’s news,  
Stained with fear from battles before—  
An old uniform hangs alone,  
Boots polished beside paper awards.  

Headlights cast broken shadows,  
Each a spectre of the past.  
Empty scotch bottles and cigarette burns  
Mark a slow crawl to solitude.  

Light burns through a slither 
His heart beats through the walls.  
Strangled by the sirens  
That triggered him before.  

He needs to be cradled,  
Yet no hand reaches for him.  
He sways back and forth,  
A pendulum of grief.  

Screams, muted by paralysis;  
Silence pervades the void.  
Fractured by a rasping breath  
And a crescendo of emotions.  

The warning bells pass—  
They did not come for him.  
His fragile breath of sorrow  
Whispers to an empty room.  

By Darren Wall ©