#Dark #Gloomy #Bleak #angry #betrayal #sadness # lonely

The Long Days Chore part 1

The Long Days Chore  part 1

Chris Mumford

 

I had just settled in from the long day’s chore,

When a rapping came at the cellars door;

No one was expected at this late hour I’m sure,

Be gone of me I beg you, I must implore;

 

But still a rapping came from my cellars door,

And this time much louder than it had been before;

Whoever this is I began to abhor,

I yelled “just leave me alone or there’ll be hell to pay for”;

 

All of the sudden the rapping had stopped,

I sank into bed, my heart quickly dropped;

Where has he gone, and where could he be,

And wherever he is, have is eyes fallen on me?;

 

A maddening thought had entered my head,

What if this man wishes me dead;

O’ this night I dare not fall asleep,

To give him free reign of my home to creep;

 

Slinking about in the cover of night,

Hidden from me, hidden from sight;

 

I can’t take these thoughts for a moment more,

Compose myself and make for the door;

 

I hear my hearts thumping, pitter-patter,

Clanking and clicking, my teeth all a-chatter;

My hand finally reaching the door,

Now the infernal rapping once more!;

 

I shrieked out a shout,

That he had heard no doubt;

My heart beating out of my chest,

“What’s all this rapping about!”;

 

I decided that I could take no more,

Slowly and steadily open the door;

Cracking and creaking as if I were sneaking,

Arouse all my senses, my perception is peaking;

 

O’ it was more than I could bear,

Open the door and no one was there;

Is this all a trick?,

Who about these parts would dare?;

 

Anger filled me to my core,

I came in in a fit and slammed shut the door;

And laid myself back into my bed,

When a rapping came at the cellars door;

 

Fear has all but left me,

I rush to the knob and gently;

Open the cellar door,

Once again he is there no more;

 

In a fit of rage I declare, a most crazed outpour,

“The next who raps upon my door, may they live no more!”;

 

Yet once again I make for my bed…

 

Time to lie, my heads-grown weary,

Exhausted-Lo’ the dark nights-dreary;

 

Does he slink, does he creep,

Still I do not dare fall asleep;

 

For if my intruder does grow near,

I fear my fate if I do not hear;

 

I awaken in shock and fall to the floor,

When a rapping came at the cellars door;

 

In a cloud of confusion,

I fell into illusion;

No longer myself,

I’ve succumb to delusion;

 

As I mentioned a-fore,

If I heard that rapping once more;

I’d see to it myself,

That he lives no more;

 

To be continued….

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Shattered glass

Folder: 
Sadness
My heart feels like shattered glass
With pieces scattered about
One day hopefully this will pass
But until that day I pout
 
How is it that you live a life
Filled with love and forgiveness
When all I Iive for is a burnt out light 
And a dark evil mistress
 
You are proud of what you have
Beautifull gardens filled with color
I am proud of feeling sad
A broken home with locked shutters
 
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voices.

Words whisper to me,

of hate, betrayal and no mercy.

Ugly. no. Worthless. no! Unwanted. NO! Hated. NO!!!

They scream at me, KILL YOURSELF!!! 

NO! no...

See, even you realise that, don't you? 

The darkness comsumes me, blotting out my vision.

If I were to die... no one would care, would they?No, they wouldn't the voices gode.

The thin blade that had apearred in my hand shines as I press it to my skin.

 Red trickles down my arm, creating vine like streams that pool on the floor

and I am in awe of it's beauty.

Again. Again! AGAIN!!! They scream at me, Though need no encouragement.

Once, twice, thrice more I slash at my ivory skin, tears of joy slip through my lashes as my eyes roll back in ecasty. 

Never have I felt more incontrol of my own life.

And never have I been more close to ending it.

My vision blurrs, and I feel fuzzy.

I look in the mirrior for the last time.

A girl with dull hair and blank broken eyes stares at me.

She is not crying. She is not trying to save herself, or reach out to me.

No, for once in her life she's... smiling.

A true smile. Not a fake, plastic smile that she must wear around everyone.

One so true, that I start to cry. Though it is not sad. I am happy for that girl. 

I reach out to touch her face, as she reaches for mine, but I have no strength.

I've lost to much blood. It pools around me, red as roses.

My eyes slowly close, and darkness comsumes me. A faint trace of the smile still plays on my cold and pale lips, as they sigh thier 

last sigh of air, and i fall into eternal peace.

 


 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

 dark times will lead to dark thoughts.