top of page
  • Writer's pictureMelissa

Stuck





Don't know what to do with my aching, empty soul

Don't know how to live an existence that's a hole

Don't know where to store that which has nowhere to go

Can't find a place in this world whose answer to me is no

Don't know how to classify this pain that's so elusive

A dread that weighs down in my chest and blackness that's intrusive

A whirlwind churns in my pit, no outlet for my angst

They do not ebb nor die down, those silent, spasmodic pangs

Past and present wounds cut deep in a choking, smoking haze

Direction is obscured to me, I'm lost in a dark maze

I knocked upon imposing doors, with knuckles scraped and raw

In windows awash with light, the curtains they did draw

The exits barred, they lock me in, my will is running short

There is no refuge for my soul, that core consumed by hurt



47 views1 comment

Recent Posts

See All
bottom of page