The fire swirls up.
The fingers twist and writhe and play
along the ends of my hair,
telling me not to be afraid,
Even though they make it
impossible not to be.
The icy breeze
Make me shiver involuntarily,
And my protector slaps me
for being weak,
And giving in to the freezing degrees.
The lukewarm air flows around me
and I'm confused..
because I've never been
at peace before,
And cannot begin to get used
to not being enveloped
in the enflamed ice.
What do I do now
that the threat is gone?
Will the ceased calamity
and utterly peaceful life really last?
Or am I doomed
to only get a small taste
Before it is ripped away again
and replaced with
the suffering and fear
That I am all too familiar with?
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
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~Dustin the Great
YOU ARE READING
The Things I Leave Unsaid
PoetryMy thoughts in poems. I'm not suicidal or even truly unhappy. I'm just confused and lost and I hope someone out there understands. These are the everyday thoughts I have that float around in my mind. This is my life, in poems. I like my poems and I...
