Lonliness

Listening

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Personal Favorites

My words,

full of thought

Laced with emotion,

Quiet whispers

trailing off,

But not,

When right now,

Feels just

Like shouting out

Into the open

The Still

Darkness and uncaring

Pitch black end,

My heart asking

Are you even listening?

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Wrote this after staring at the painting I created one night and is now being used on this site for my profile pic. Still, I have enjoyed hearing from others that have viewed my painting, what they "get" from it... It means a lot to know my art touches more than just I. Thanks for reading.

Season

She was with me when the day was bright
she was with me when there was no light
she was with me when i felt pain
she was with me in when it started to rain

she showed me the right path
she told me it is not too late to start
she was there when I was lost
she was there when I re- fought

I dont know why things change
i dont know why she acted so strange
She never told me the reason
she moved on like some season

I thought she was playing some game
she acted like she don’t even know my name
she suddenly made her decision
she won’t talk and won’t even give me a reason

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What Lies Behind The Dying Sun?

Folder: 
Camino

Trapped on this mountain…Will death come before the next sun rise?
9:45 pm
Eden City Coal Corp., Mining site No.3

From the open wound of a dying sky, the blood of sorrow and death rained, dripping slowly, falling far away from the corpse of a rotting paradise; splattering down on a dead world of fear and disorder, a world where the gods of man have long since, faded away into the dark grave of nothingness, leaving only the remnants of creation to rot inside the shadows of their own self made hell.

Alone in the darkness, only the unseen hands of the cold, suffocating lonely remained, only the grip of madness gave comfort to the tattered, old guard shack that shivered in freezing winds of isolation and abandonment. At the foot of ruins, it lay; crying into the night.

William exhaled slowly.

Into the night, he quietly gazed, glaring into the dead unknown that lie in wait just beyond the false safety of the dust covered window. Beyond the vast expanse, something dark watched from the unseen corners, something terrifying and hungry; something that watched and waited. Tension seeped from every pore of his face.

As he sat, staring on in a calm panic, shadows of nothingness crawled into the small, dirty room, weeping in unheard horror; cowering behind him, as their hands grabbed tight, his shoulders; as if to escape from the thing that stalked them, even the ever dimming lights seemed to wail out in panic, as they beat against the glass. From somewhere outside, lonely cries of old machines echoed out, humming a song of fear in the face of the coming death.

Into a dark place he stared.

Every mound of coal that lie abandoned, every truck that sat, long separated from a once, living soul; every shuttle car that once carried someone, now felt as though the sinister unseen were watching just beyond them; felt as though they, themselves were watching, waiting to let go, the hungry death, which would soon find its way to him, and eat him alive.

In the darkest corners, nothing but the worm exists; slowly crawling, slowly stalking those that are dying the slow death; those who lie in the grave and rot from the inside out. Nothing in a long dead world exists but forgotten remains.

I can’t stay here forever…but if I can hold out for a while, maybe I will live to see another sunrise…another day that I’m not one of them.

Though the dim, amber lights still burned, and the melancholy hum still sang out in the void, the mouth of the mountain opened wide, crying out in agony of isolation and reality of abandonment. Where once it was greeted by the strong and proud, and those who came to it for livelihood, now it sat alone; left to suffer in the darkness, and die at the hands of the savage and the diseased. Even the greatest creations of man will someday lie in ruins.

Trapped from the chaos that devoured the world, deep in the belly of the mountain; no other life except his remained. When the day of demise has met the sons of rebellion, all that lies in the wake of disaster, is the long, cold night, which cries down upon cadavers of the dead.

Another day that I’m still my own.

From the faded comfort, of the old, worn out office chair, William nervously looked away, taking his heavy, aluminum flash light in one hand, as he leaned over to turn on the battered, old radio, that rested in front of the window.

As the rest of the world had died around him, the darkness seemed to close on him, wanting to keep in its grip, lusting after the very fear of the unknown, that he harbored inside. Gazing down on the small two-way radio sitting on the desk, he sighed in slight anxiety.

Useless; completely useless.

Into the silent chasm, nothing but wild static echoed out. He gripped the torch tightly in his hand.

Same thing for days…is this ever going to end?

In the darkness, a silent enemy awakened. Against the rising fear that stirred within his mind, he fought bitterly. His job seemed to have kept him alive, yet in his thoughts, he wondered if it would be his death. Around him the world had fallen into oblivion, leaving only him alive to witness the death that had come, now he remained; trapped in the bowls of the mountains, far away from the civilization that once was.

His thoughts waged a battle between wanting to survive and the helplessness of that unseen demise. Would he be able to find his way out by morning? Would he remain in his sanctum till someone came? Or would he die a horrible, lonely death, in the face of his own of fears and weaknesses. William closed his eyes.
What am I going to do…I can’t leave but I can’t stay.
In the dark serenity of his own mind, it seemed as if he could find a safe place to hide; a place where he lock his fears away, and hide his sanity from an outside world that threatened to tear his soul into pieces; that threatened to drive him into the deepest hell of loneliness and torture.

When those who are left scattered after the chaos, find themselves alone, the only hope for survival rests inside their minds. The only way to survive is to vanish into the darkness; into the corners left untouched by the disease; by the eclipse. Determination gives birth to hope, location becomes the cradle of life; or the death of it.

Am I dead already?

As he sat, pondering on things unseen, a cold, dead wind leaked through the open seams of the old building, wrapping around him tightly, as if to protect him from the sickening stench of the rotted shadows that grabbed at his feet in wild horror; as if to keep him from the suffering. Their contorted hands chilled him to the bone.
Even in the cold space of nothing, fear of the unknown can create powerful monsters. Monsters that become alive and eat away at the soul, and thoughts in one’s own mind; leaving nothing more than a hollow shell to wonder around in the night. William calmly turned the old radio off.
Just static…there’s nothing left out there.
Down from its cross of sorrow, an old, long forgotten clock looked on in terror; pure dying hell, as it cried out into the great nothing below. As though to escape the invisible thing that chased after them, its hands ran in a never ending circle, shrieking in undying fear of the horrible unseen. Each tick that passed seemed one step closer to an unavoidable grave. He closed his eyes.
Nothing can outrun death forever.
In the deepest recesses of his mind, his thoughts ran wild; dancing in a panic induced state of confusion and terror, standing on the thin line between living and dying, giving up, or holding on. Each passing minute seemed to tease him in its own morbid delight, as time took slow steps away from, fading into the unknown.
What would the next hour bring, would it bring hope, or death? Would his choices save his soul or walk him through the gate of oblivion?
I have to get myself together…I will not die here.
Around his feet, crawled the shadowy worms of decay; the worms that salivated over the moment of his dying, the worms that waited to eat away at his dead soul and leave his carcass to rot among the industrial ruins that he relied on for protection. Eventually our sanctuary will give way to the thing that seeks to get in.
What was that....?
From beyond the distant ruins, something stirred. From somewhere beyond the abandoned trucks, and coal mounds, something unknown moved within the dust bowl, carrying with it, a solemn cry of pain and confusion. William’s eyes grew wide with terror.
Oh no…
Standing slowly, he backed away, pushing the tattered old chair as he sought to put distance between himself and the old window. Somehow his fear had come to find him. No longer was he safe in the isolation; now it had found him.
His eyes desperately tried to focus in the darkness, a cold, stale wind leaked through the open seams of the old building, wrapping around him tightly, as if to protect him from the dead, stiff hands of the rotting nameless that grabbed him tightly in complete horror
Out of the shadows of death, the coming faceless bled, seeping through the darkness like a face rising from the depths of a black ocean; pushing slowly through the cold wind that struggled in vain to flee from the bonds of fear which held it down. In panic of the dead, it became violent in its own struggle.
Harder his heart began to beat, pumping blood into his ears. Each step became louder; his sight became shaper. As the sound of flowing blood fought the sound of the chaotic noise in his ears, his hands trembled. No one knows what waits at the end of the unknown.

Beyond the rotted innards of the decayed old building, the thing that walked among the dead, staggered in unknown agony, carrying with it, faint cries of suffering and loneliness from which there could be no relief. One always finds themselves just a step from hell.

Could it be…

Somehow the very illusion of safety came down. The darkness he looked to for hiding, pushed him out; the battered, forgotten walls of his cold sanctum had fallen to the ground bellow his trembling feet. The cry of dead became louder in the night.

I thought I was safe…

Pulling the heavy aluminum baton from his side, he gripped it tightly. Between his fragile life and the savage unknown, only a single thin wall stood; only a wooden barrier kept him from the fate he’d long feared. With a viscous snap, he opened the baton.

Unable to see, yet able to hear; he knew it was close. The heavy breathing, the faint, painful whimper of torment; the confusion in each slow step; it was coming closer, and in a short time, it would find him.

How could it find me…

As he crouched down to hide once more in the darkness, he gazed on in desperation, hoping to use every last second to stay within the shadows; hoping it would pass on into the unseen. Sometimes silence can be the difference between life and death.

Just keep going…

Though it offered little hope, the cold comfort of the night gave shelter; at least for a moment, allowing him to hide within the chasm, allowing time to think, time to plan, time to breathe in the stale, dank air, if for nothing more than to feel alive for that one moment of his life..

It is coming closer…I have to do something. I can’t sit here and wait to die.

As he sat on the cold, dusty floor, his mind became flooded with confusion. What should have been a simple decision became a war of choices within his mind. The walking infected was nearing, as each tick of the clock gave way to the next. With every passing of the hand, his time to decide was passing with it.

The doors are locked…maybe it will go on by…but if not, should I try to kill it…but what if there are more…what if it draws them?

As his eyes became more focused in the darkness, he gazed down on the baton, still gripped tightly in his hand. Knowing his survival came down, not to the weapon he held, but the very will to live; to his desire for the life he once took for granted, William sighed a nervous sigh of mild relief.

Whatever comes, will come.

Continuing to sit, he found himself in a daze. The ravages of sleepiness and the draining fear seemed to wear his body and mind, as if to weaken him before the coming death; as if to take his strength so that there was no way to fight against his fate. Shaking the sleepiness off, he fought to keep himself alert.

Come on…don’t let yourself go.

Sometimes, even in the hours of the coming death, one’s own mind can drift away from the dark, harsh reality that seeks to find them. One’s own soul can fall victim to the weakness, even as the body and mind give in to the same.

Oh no…

As he was fighting his own weakness, the shadow of death crept across what light remained on the floor near him, as only his little sanctuary remained in the darkness, the rest bathed in the dim glow of loneliness. From the eternal unknown, a low cry of misery echoed out from just beyond the dirty glass window.
Slowly, he looked up from the dark abyss; into his worst fear, locking eyes with the dead which salivated in morbid lust as it appeared to look on into the void. Pressing against the glass, the soulless eyes seemed to scan through the darkness, as though they were watching for something; waiting for it to make itself known. Just as the wild animal waits for its prey, so to, do the eyes of the stalking death. Even the shadows of sanctuary cannot hold one forever.

Those eyes…no life in them…just black…pure darkness. They don’t move. They just stare, as if they know I’m here somewhere.

Gripping the baton ever tighter, his hand began to tremble. The sweat from his palms ran in fear of the hungry dead, running down into the abyss. Even the dark unknown is better than the reality of facing the eyes of hell. William continued to watch.

Just keep on going…there’s no food here.

Vanishing back into the nothing, the looming figure faded slowly away, leaving only a faint reminder of where it stood; a streak of bile which had spewed out in a mess of worms and tissue.
I hope it’s gone…

Finally the tension began to fade, his heart beat softened up. In his mind, death had left him alone for another day, and though still leaving him to the hideous silence of a dying world and the unknown that still existed, at least left him alive. William sighed with relief.

That was close…it almost found me.

A sense of peace fell over him. The darkness felt like sanctuary again; the fear had slithered away. For another moment, he felt safe; he felt like his life was in the hands of something greater than even the death that stalked from the reaches of hell.

Suddenly, from somewhere beyond his sight, a loud crash echoed through the dark, tearing his moment of calm from his very soul, ripping it away like skin from the carcass of a dead and forgotten animal. As he jumped up in panic, a horrid cry of torment and undying hunger bellowed out from beyond the shadows of the unseen.

No...

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William's Journal entry

Folder: 
Camino

I've barricaded myself up on here on this mountain. For the past week, this guard shack has been my home…how much longer I can remain here, I don’t know. The mine workers stocked plenty of food and drink for the winter, just in case us “rent a cops” got stranded, so I may be able to hold out for a while. For now, all I can do is sit and wait Did I say barricaded, more like become trapped. The radio went silent days ago, the helicopters have faded from the sky, and city lights below have almost all gone dark. It’s as though the world has been pulled into hell and I’m all that is left…maybe I can wait a while longer, than try to walk out of here…no, help will come. It has to. For now I’m safe up here, and I plan to stay alive. Nothing has found its way here, and as long as it stays that way, I am staying put…and hope none of those things find me. I never would have thought simple security training would be so useful, and I never would have placed much faith in this line of work, but now I do. Funny how a job I hated so much, I now have come to love.
William.

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The Calm Nothing

Folder: 
Camino

Something inside says to go back…

8:15 pm
The middle of nowhere

Into the eternal unknown, the world seemed to have vanished, to have died away, as nothing stirred within the hungry darkness. Except for an old sign that swung slowly above the filling station door, the chilling touch of death had left everything silent and still.

From beyond the distant unseen, dim lights crept across the age stained surface of the old tin, as it uttered in cold silence, Welcome.

Rachel’s eyes filled with hope.

I hope someone is here…

Only stillness came to greet, only the cold chill reached out. Nothing else seemed alive as the small car crawled to a stop among the ancient fuel pumps. As Rachel stepped out into the calm misery, a slight breeze picked up, covering her face with strands of long black hair as if to protect her eyes from the horrid sight of loneliness and despair. Even the dust swirling around her ankles held on in fear.

“Hello?” She asked out into the dark.

“Is anyone here?” She asked once again, hoping for someone’s answer.

Only the echo of her voice came back to answer, as the cold sting of dying wind greeted her ashen face with a numbing kiss.

Is Everything dead… is this all that’s left?

Clutching the black machete, Rachel gazed around, hoping to see someone, anyone who still remained. There had to be someone there who knew what was happening, someone alive. There had to be a living soul somewhere.

Whoever was once there, whoever was once a part of that place had long faded into the forgotten lonely. All that once was, was now gone; forever sealed in a coffin of forgotten memories and buried deep where the nameless suffer. Now, nothing more than lost voices, crying from a hopeless void, howls of the faceless dead echoed on the winds of desolation. She closed her eyes.

This place resonates with a heavy burden of sorrow…I hope their souls have found rest.

Upon the haunted remains, that frowned before her, a hideous whisper of fear and loneliness turned her eyes, numbing her to the bone with an icy breath as it gasped out from the black within. As the dying shadows reeled in panic beyond the dirt stained windows, the decayed old building grimaced in the horror of voiceless agony.

Is this how it all ends…is this how end?

“Is anyone here?” She asked into the open space, as she pushed the door open with a slow, fearful caution.

Under her feed, shards of glass popped and crunched. The heavy weight of something unseen, seemed to push against her, as if to beg her to turn away, yet something else guided her into the darkness; not just to hide from the howling on the wind, or to seek help, but something else; something she could not understand. Even in times of disaster and fear, curiously can get the better of us.

“Is anyone here?’ She called out again.

The lights popped and sparkled to life, buzzing as they cast their dim glow before the decay and cold nothing of dark serenity that festered. No life, no movement; nothing but the stagnant carcass of a dead establishment; left in a nameless grave to rot with the squirming lost.

“Hello?” She asked in a quiet desperation.

Over the mess of glass, her slender figure became broken as she stepped forward. In the distance, a security mirror, abandoned in the loneliness of a shadowy corner, frowned upon her passing reflection; its battered face, shedding tears of unseen of sorrow upon her.

Am I the only one here…the only one left?

Gazing upon a near wall, portraits of proud men, hung under the amber light, holding hands with the dancing shadows of souls since lost. Those people; who were they, where did they go? Where they still alive? In the reflection of her brown eyes, the tango of the dead continued on.

These great men…once proud and mighty above the dead at their feet…once loved and revered …now forgotten, faded from memory like the place they’ve abandoned…I wonder where they are now?

Down on her they watched with frozen smiles, their glory, once held as a light, now only a ghost; a remnant of memories passed away, hanging from the wall like the beasts they once hunted. She closed her eyes again

Death makes trophies of us all.

Tired from wondering through endless miles of nothingness, she calmly sat at nearby table, hoping to regain some sense of clarity, as she fought within her mind to stay awake. Just like that place, she felt alone and lost, helpless against something she could not see; against something that had devoured her warmth.

“This place must have been abandoned for quite some time?” She said to herself softly, as she swept her eyes over the silent chaos.”

Through the calm, an unseen madness seemed to linger, filling a void long left
lonesome and cold in its grave. The mess of shattered glass and scattered goods spilled at its feet, a sacrifice to the panic and mindless disorder which must have ensued. In the grip of fear, the mind loses its sense of logic.

“It’s everywhere.”

Holding an old, faded photo tightly, she nearly crushed it in her grip. Inside her eyes, a bitterness grew, waging war with the innocence, her soft complexion seemed to project. Necessity creates determination; determination creates survival.

I know you are still alive…don’t give up.

“Everything has been eaten away…those monsters out there…they’ve devoured everything.” Rachel softly spoke into the air.

Panic has a way of overtaking rational thought. In the madness of the unknown, it becomes a rabid monster, eating away everything that one holds close, leaving only a thoughtless corpse to lie within a grave of festering dread.

I will find you…

Suddenly, the window of silence was violently shattered, catching Rachel by surprise, as a faint sound grew in the unseen distance. Rising from the seat, she stood; looking, listening; hoping someone had came, or had come out of hiding.

“What was that?” She said to herself, as she nervously took the machete from the table.

Walking forward, she held the plastic handle of the blade with a grip only challenged by the cold sweat that bled from her palms. In a world where the accepted has been torn apart and faith has been crucified before the unknown, everything must be observed with a cautious trust, and nothing must be trusted.

Is someone here…someone alive?

Searching for the soft sound, she stepped lightly passed an old forgotten freezer, keeping unknown to the faint stir that lay beyond her sight, beyond the distorted reflection of her black skirt. Her frail image seemed to hover in the hazy glass, the expression of still caution wrapped in an ethereal glow.

Her thoughts filled with a grim relief. If she could find someone, anyone who still remained, perhaps they could help her. Only a living soul could offer comfort. A telephone would do her no good. Nothing would be waiting on the other end, nothing but the dreaded hush of a ghost’s whisper. There was no time to waste on the useless dead.

Where are you?

From its cross of rusted torture, a large wooden door cried down upon her, tears of admonition, begging in unheard terror to stay away. What lay on the other side? Would someone be there, or would the dead be waiting? At its feet, a soft light flickered, grabbing at her legs with tormented hands. The door opened slowly.

“Hello?” She asked softly, stepping into the unknown.

Under the spattered sparkle of a broken light, a sudden rush of death overwhelmed Rachel, twisting her stomach, as the heavy odor of rotted flesh overwhelmed her senses.

What happened here?

In the cold, motionless state of death, the darkened remains of a body sat alone in a corner of blood; the back of its head, a gaping wound, where once thoughts and dreams dwelled, now blown open, leaving only a stew of teeth, brains, and bone upon the wall for the dying hungry. In its mouth, the gun remained.

With each step forward, her heart pounded harder into her chest, drowning out the sudden thunder that rumbled in the distance. Pushing the blade into the sheath, her arms trembled as she neared the forgotten dead.

This poor man?

“There is no help for him now.” She spoke softly to herself. “His end came for him.”
In the blink of an eye, the world had gone dark. Bodies of those once living, were spread out like dead rats, left to the ruins of chaos. No salvation existed, for the vile wind of death had swept over, taking nearly every living thing with it, and in their place, leaving nothing more than the creeping faceless to wonder in the depths of turmoil and slow decay.

Life is so easily taken…gone in a single moment.

Standing over the rotting flesh of the dead man, she could not help but wonder. How did he end up here? Why did he take his own life? Was his life already gone? In her mind, thoughts and questions swirled, not only of the dead before her, but her own life, and the life of those she loved.

How much longer do I have?

Fear of the unknown had taken its hold on her. The growing anxiety began to fill her soul. There seemed to be no hope for anyone, not even those who chose to hide away from the thing that had come. She turned away.

There is no control over death…nothing can stop it from claiming us…why has this happened?

In her heart however, a desire still existed. A small part of her refused to give up and let death take her so easily. If she was going to die, it was going to be an old lady years from this horrible nightmare, warm in her bed; Not like this.

As Rachel stood, looking away, the soft squish of the ripened cadaver caught her attention, as it fell over. At its side, lay an old voice recorder, battered by time, yet unharmed by squirming maggots , or the blood that soaked through its torn flannel shirt. She picked it up.

What’s this?

Pushing the large, black button, it seemed to be collection of thoughts, journals into the abyss.

My brother, Billy took off for Eden city a few days ago to find his ex wife and daughter. Despite all the events going on. I had to chase after him. Older brother to the rescue again, like always. But I managed to get stuck here in this God forsaken station, in the middle of nowhere. What was I thinking…coming this far? They just came out of where, attacking us like savages, and my so called best friend left me here in his panic. Now I have no way to get out of here, unless someone comes along. It is too dangerous to walk these roads…no, I better just stay put. I have a few shells left, but no way would I make it out of here alive if those things decided to come back, and there is plenty of food and water. Someone will come along, eventually…I hope. Either way, my dear brother is on his own…good luck Billy. As for Joe…I hope they eat him…coward. September twenty-six, nineteen ninety six

I’m far from being out of food and water, but I hear their cries at night, and it is even worse in the day time…I’m tempted to just walk out of here…no run, but that would only make things worse. No one has come by here, since I got stuck here…somehow, I suspect no one will again. Too remote I guess. Either way, I’m screwed. Damn it Joe…why did you leave me here, you bastard. October second…anyone who finds this will know the year.

I feel like I’m going insane…I’ve been here far too long…God what do I do? Every little sound has me twitching…and I think they’re coming closer…the sounds are louder now. I can’t even walk outside without becoming paranoid…damn mountains. Doesn’t matter anyway…my brother is probably dead now, just as I fear I will be. This place has become my coffin. October ninth.

They are everywhere…there is no getting away from here now. I managed to board up the place as much as I could, but not before those mothers came crashing in on me…I took out as many as I could, but one of them bit me…I should have just walked out of here. I won’t go out like that…they won’t get me, I promise that. If anyone finds this and wonders why I’m leaving so many messages, just ask if you want to be forgotten. This will probably be my last, as the batteries are close to death now…sadly I’m not too far behind. Dam you Joe. October twelfth.

Pulling the small flashlight from her pocket, Rachel gazed in fear upon it, as the dimming light faded in and out of life. The sheath, holding the blade at her side, a reminder of things she’d rather forget.

“This isn’t going to be enough.”

I need everything I can to everything to survive this nightmare.

Slowly turning around, she walked back into the silent chaos, the need for necessities, playing on her mind, her only thoughts now on an unspoken mission; a voyage into the black unknown.

My fate won’t be his.

Grabbing a black leather duffel bag, she searched each shelf, behind every counter, behind every case, filling it with everything she would need for her descent into the madness. She knew nothing of the true danger before her, or the inevitable unknown that existed beyond the dark calm of those rotting walls, only that his survival rested in her hands.

Gripping the strap tightly in her hand, Rachel stood in front of the shattered door, looking out, gazing upon a hazy hilltop as a burst of lightening streaked across the distance, illuminating the once unseen. She held the photo tight, as each flash revealed the lost nothing, an empty spot where the haunted specter of something once stood. She vanished into the unknown.

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Twilights Dawn

While walking, just the other day,
I realized I didn't know the way
back to where I'd started out
and knowing this, began to doubt
the road I'd traveled couldn't lead
to the place that I would need
to end my journey, make my rest
when at last, at twilight's dawn
(was I simply the Almighty's pawn?)

 

 I close my eyes to convalesce.

So to in life, I sometimes fear
that home, and God, are no where near
That I may have wandered far away
where, when comes the close of day,
My shepherd will not show interest to
gather me home, left far from view.
He'll tire of me, his errant one
my roaming, fighting, loathsome ways
(but for me, his heart does blaze!)

 

 His ties to me I've all undone

But Still I trust that I can never be
far from the light of Love's sweet rays
and if I but turn to find His face
I'll find His sweet, eternal gaze...

For ever was He at my side,
and I from Him, not He, did hide...

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This is my first "published" poem, and I would be very interested in comments. Thank you...

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Drought In My Head

I need time to solidify.
Everything is so dry,
Cracks pierce the crust.

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Gods Revolver

Their souls grow numb
They cannot feel-
just fear and hide
They cannot deal

They cry alone
Their wounds won't heal
Reaching for hope,
in a world unreal

Their salty tears
are a life dissolver
For they've all fallen victim
to Gods Revolver

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Withering Souls and Unhappy Hearts

I'm not eating the young girl said with a smile
Her mood on a dial, she acts like a child
The people surrounding her see nothing at all
Her frail little body is slowed to a crawl
She's sick of her best friend who says not to eat
She's done with her body, she's dead on her feet
Her sleep is diminished with nightmares and pain
Her friends have all left her and she's lonely and shamed
She ponders and ponders the days she has left
Because now she wonders how many to death

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Ok, guys! First poem in a reeeeeaaaallly long time. And yes, this one is about me.

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