Monday, January 23, 2012

Story.

Listen to the silence.
They tell a story.
Story about you.
And, the people who left you.
Memories that haunt you.
In dark, cold-misty nights.
Nostalgia wraps its arms around you.
Sometimes comforting, sometimes suffocating.
You cry, you sigh.
You twist, you turn.
You smile, You laugh.
Then you remember,
There is a demon masked as an angel.
The one who groped your virgin skin,
Whose vile intentions,
Keeps killing you almost every night.
Reach for a razor, stick it to your skin.
Paint a new picture and
write the end of your story, your life.

P.S. That's not my hand.


8 comments:

Sanket Kambli said...

very well written !

♫♪♥PhilO♥♪♫ said...

Gripping!

♫♪♥PhilO♥♪♫ said...

Don't even ever let it be your hand :)

Teritopsy said...

Wow! I'm new here and I really like your blog! Very well made!

TayTay said...

Wow this was really good! Keep writing I wanna see more :)

Tay
x

⁂ܓVållῐ ⁂ܓ☺ said...

I loved the usage of this line...
"There is a demon masked as an angel."
very nicely written dear :)

Cheryl van den Berg said...

this is a sad poem, but it's very moving.

AJai said...

i feel like i've lived these lines before!