When you need something familiar, and pain is closest at hand.


Cleansing

I'm in a pit, watching it closing.
I see you stand up there, above.
No one will ever see
the truth hiding in this shell which looks like me,

in whispering agony.
I'm done with the lies. I pass my hand through the last rays of light and tremble, as the final glowing shimmer filtered between my fingers

fade.



Poetry by mickeko
Read 907 times
Written on 2014-03-25 at 01:36

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