As
night-time sets in the room
All
about is impending gloom,
The
shadows I have to beware
As
I sombrely and soberly stare.
The
voices sadly speak and also bark
As
I insanely trip and search in the dark,
Staring
into space at ghosts of the past –
A
chilling experience to hauntingly last.
I
communicate with TV, a grim reality
Of
a grave gravity of mental insanity,
And
as I deliver, I gander in wonder
And
ponder as to what lays on yonder.
I
am prone to torture myself, and self-harm,
With
some trying respites of chilling calm;
And
as I wrestle with my consciousness
In
comes the torment of aggressiveness.
I
become my own victim, a sad prisoner,
And
sit in a godly pew like a parishioner,
As
one alter represents Mother Nature –
A
recurring nightmare of some torture.
©
Andrew Stevenson 22/03/2017
Please note I am well at the moment, but have a gruesome past with suffering.
Thank you. Love love, Andrew.
Not a good day when the shadows fall Andrew, I hate it when one has to put the lights on early with just the TV for company.
ReplyDeleteYvonne.
Greetings Yvonne. I have been seriously ill in the past, happily it did not last. Blessings. Love love, Andrew.
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