Slid so fast into the dark,
pushing blindly past the shit.
Never tried to stop,
at full speed when I hit.
Couldn’t see it coming,
didn’t really care.
What’s the point in slowing down
if you’re not getting anywhere.
Running from the past,
never looking back.
Repeating the mistakes,
increasing what I lack.
It’s not about destruction,
or causing people pain.
I just want some comfort,
to try and keep me sane.
What’s the point in sleeping,
there are no answers there.
Just the dreams that keep me
from being anywhere.
Looking for the end of this,
trying not to scream.
I can face the truth
if you can tell me what it means.
About the Creator
Debra Herrington
I've been writing since I was 16, I use poetry as a means of expressing my opinions and feelings.
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Dead and Wearing Green
She was wearing that green dress when I first saw her, five years ago to the day. Flowing meadow fabric draped over long legs, thick auburn hair flowing down her back. That smile. Of course, she is still beautiful now. But now she is no longer alive.
By Karen Cave7 days ago in Fiction
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