No Respite
Wispy tendrils invade my home
Sticky remnants of a tattered past.
Sticky remnants of a tattered past.
What reveals
This hearth does not embrace me
Devours scraps of another life.
Always here.
The ugly scratch of hate called words
Stained papers with ink sting the air.
Gripping me
The hands on the accusing clock
Strike me for being your fool.
All alone
The most complete thing I have done
Though fear it is the only way.
Not okay
Whether I laugh or I scream
Want is unfulfilled in me.
No respite.
Published by Wren Andre
Defining a life in less than 255 characters: Started out writing, rocked in the music world, now back to writing. I have an amazing family & Rock Band to keep me somewhat sane. View profile
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