Mist

Scratched wallpaper,

Broken window,

And me

Alone with snapshots of my memories.

I hear them talk to me,

Call me back.

Hands are bleeding

From hitting the wall;

Room is filled with despair,

And there is nothing

To clear out

My bloodshed eyes.

Dark mist of the present

Sings the saddest song

Of the nonexistent future.

It becomes more and more quiet

Until I don’t hear it anymore…

 

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