PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

This place is my deathbed,
Knowledge knows not what it has killed,
The lies have al been said,
The truth will be spilled,
These walls are my prison,
Trapping my mind,
Hiding my visions,
So I may leave them behind,
The ceiling is bland,
Although it occupies my thoughts,
I see your life in my hands,
My visions it haunts,
I wish to run, to hide in my dreams,
A hand touches mine, this is not what it seems.