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And When...
Folder:
My Personal Favorites
And when did it turn
to this?
Becoming a shadow
lurking at my back-
trailing
my every scream.
I never looked behind,
but could feel, nonetheless,
such hotness
of bated breath
tempering my skin,
to perspiring dread.
At my loss-point,
I shifted,
became disenchanted
by all this,
so-called,
'living-thing'.
Yet, forward still,
I traveled,
lest backroads
took me
farther away
from my tomorrow.
Nothing became
my goal
and everything
became my will-
a need to survive...
....this.
And when
did 'this'
become so very hard,
that
even the laughter,
I so feared?
