|Not for an Obituary
Author: Blackening the Ivy PM
I feel things writhe and crawl beneath my feet, Screaming to be reborn. To block the noise, I stuff my ears with dirt, The sound unbearable. ...It pulls me under...Rated: Fiction T - English - Angst/Supernatural - Words: 146 - Reviews: 1 - Favs: 1 - Published: 10-26-04 - id: 1746837
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Not for an Obituary
I feel things crawl and writhe beneath my feet,
Screaming to be reborn.
To block the noise,
I stuff my ears with dirt,
The sound so unbearable.
It pulls me under.
But I refuse to be consumed,
Or to heed their pitiful cries.
I know they will drain me of hope.
I was tranquil,
But as I came to this place more and more,
The calm I thought was there has been lifted,
Now the dead scream at me...
If they ever were there...
And I have not become mad.
I thought I was nothing,
And when I finally got what I wanted,
It was a horror.
It has been progressing slowly,
I have become so weary.
Such a simple thing,
It has ripped me in two.