I was sat by my bedroom's window, staring at the pitch dark sky of the night in thought. An atmosphere of a deadly silence filled the room, even though I couldn't say the same for what was happening inside my head.
A vortex of wild memories and incomplete thoughts roamed the dark chambers of my mind, threatening to break out of their cells.
They wanted to be in control.
I can't give it to them, though.
"Keept fighting." People said, but as the nights passed by, I found myself slowly succumbing to their wishes.
And I know it won't be long until my whispers become a hollow echo of them.
YOU ARE READING
Splintered Illusions
PoetryThese are a wild mixture of poems, thoughts, and scenes from stories I shall never write. Through them, I shall take you somewhere foreign; into the darkest parts of my mind.
