Reads: 131  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 2

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
just something that came to me a little while ago...comments are appreciated :)

Submitted: June 29, 2012

A A A | A A A

Submitted: June 29, 2012



I stare at the walls--

Cracks and lines and stains

Create a roadmap of troublesome times

Of a long and unspoken past

That lies beneath and all around these walls.


My breath makes whispy tendrils

That escape into the many cracks

Where they mingle with the vapid air

That lingers there--

Trapped beneath the concrete.


Behind my own wall, my vacant eyes,

My past stands at bay

And memories flood the beaches of my mind

Washing away the jagged razors in the sand

That snag and rip my brain

With the rise and fall of the tide.


No light peeks through the tangible walls

Nor the metaphopric

And soon the air is stale and sour

With despair.


Now is when I notice the dust

As the walls begin to crumble--

The map desintigrates and falls

Leaving no sign of the past--nor the present--

But most alarmingly....the future.



© Copyright 2017 Phoebe Kishbaugh. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments: