The dark is somehow darker,
It exists on the verge of hope.
The shadows possess more depth,
the silence is absent.
I teeter on the edge of destruction,
and no one sees me in the darkness.
The silent implosion.
The darkness is pulling me from slumber,
and dropping me head first into a world of insecurities,
vulnerability clings to my indifference.
The darkness is dragging me from slumber,
searching for the broken pieces of my soul.
Preying on my nightmares,
crashing them into existence.
These are the dreams that rage inside of me,
as the darkness wins.
As the darkness tears apart my soul,
As the darkness becomes my fears
and insecurity bleeds into my open wound,
And all I see is darkness,
and all I hear is darkness,
and all I feel is darkness.
Karen Hayward ©2016