Poetry: Her Mind Revealed

Living Hell

This world that I live in,

Is making me something that I'm not.

Something quiet, sad, lonely, and deeply depressed.

~~

I feel as if I have some kind of disease,

That makes people dought my actions,

My words,

And my very living existance.

~~

It's as if being in a dark room all alone.

Or in the shadows of a park.

Sitting on a swing, while not even moving.

And the swing next to me has no living soul.

No soul to dare be near me.

~~

All you can hear is the silent whispering of winds.

To me,

It's just like Hell.

But no fire,

No screams.

No scream of a demented soul,

Lost in the underworld.

~~

Yet, I can hear something.

I can hear my weeping sorrow.

My tears crashing,

To my hands resting in my lap.

~~

Do you know what it's like to be alone?

~~

~Summer Miller