morose
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In the already messed up nature of the world, she couldn’t find a Drop Of life.There was nothing in the pond, Nor on the shelf in her closet. Nothing.She stood alone in silence. Isolated. She never sat, because she had too much to do. Too much to
Dark hair
Frames her angular face
Protruding cheekbones
Paperwhite skin hiding lacy blue veins
Dark eyes
Follow me around the room
Judging me
Looking at me
Wanting to be me
Like a game of Russian Roulette,
I sit here and I sweat.
My palms are cold and wet.
I am waiting for the gun
To make its way to me.
Nights transformed to months;
the rain to floods. A brooding storm,
bleak and somber.
The darkness of night heaving
its overwhelming presence,
echoes eminating from hollow walls.
As still as the stars,
