Running circles around my head,
Remembering books and poems I read,
Why do they appeal to me so?
Why do I understand them,
Just as though they, too, were my own?
Running circles around my head.
Drip, drop, the poison won't stop,
It's killing me, taking over,
White light fades,
Feathers slowly turn grey, then black,
A cursed child indeed.
Times once peaceful,
Now torn asunder,
Come from the darkness,
Alas, such is too great a challenge,
Something so vast should not be left all to one such as myself,
One so measly as myself.
Living like a ghost,
I fear that spiders have crawled inside and made themselves a home,
Within this heart where light once roamed,
Now ‘tis where the lonely ones roam,
These wits are no home,
They are but a lonesome graveyard,
Filled with the skeletons of memories,
Old lives, perhaps,
All to be buried in the past,
Nevermore to arise.
If they truly cared,
Then prove it.
Give me a reason,
One good reason I should keep running,
Running this doomed race,
Of which is bound to cut to the end soon enough.
No matter how much I run,
No matter how much I change,
It’s still me underneath,
I still show through,
Never to escape it,
For someday, the day it has waited for for so long,
Shall come to pass,
The fate once foretold long ago,
Finally stops unfolded.
But what shall come after the storm is over?
That is up to the ones left standing,
To those who remember me fondly,
If such is possible,
Dear friends of mine,
Tell me, do you really care?
Through times of sorrow,
I can weep no longer.
Through dense woods,
I can run no longer.
Though my spirit lingers;
Whispering to those who understand,
To those who know what it’s like.
- Jay M
December 19th, 2018