Writer with a strange name

The Dark

It’s like this slow encroaching pain that seems to leave me as fleetingly as lovers do.

The flow and ebb much like the sea, I am drowning in emotions I long ago buried and can no longer escape.

Similar to the rattling bones of an ancient burial ground it haunts me.

I cannot sleep without thinking,

Yet I cannot silence my thoughts.

I write this not filled with pain but seeking to feel once more.

There is nothingness only and emptiness that rings louder than a soundless tree falling in a forest.

Too far off for anyone to hear. Did the tree really fall?

Have I ever been seen?

I am tormented by disappointment.

No, sadness no longer remains just bitter loss and frustration.

Frustration at my own stupid hope.

Frustration towards me.

I hope to feel.

I hope to be able to breathe once more.

This is not air I am breathing, this is not life that I am living.

I feel her slow grip around my throat.

She whispers and beckons to me.

My boat is no longer tethered to land and the sea till taunts me.

The Siren drags me to the depths below.

There is no struggle, no fighting.

Only Peace.


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