Author Information
Talking With The Dead
Folder:
Sad poems Hot, burning fury
My blood races like flame
Rage consumes me
And it’s mine.
I own my own mind
There is no longer an evil within
So why does being alone hurt?
And why don’t I feel safe?
And then I realise
Without It to hurt for me
I’m not as strong as I was
I’m sane, but I’m incomplete.
Sweet, living fury
How I bathe in its embrace
The rush, the burn, the thrall
But when it’s over, it’s me that’s being consumed.
