She woke up.
She looked around.
She woke up and she observed.
Her surroundings were as she left them.
Her posters, still on her wall,
Her laundry, still in a pile.
Her bed, still made.
She felt... different.
She woke up.
She glanced from corner to corner of her dimly lit room.
Though something didn’t feel right.
She felt... strange.
She woke up.
She took a second to look down at the ground around her.
All she saw when she did,
Was a pill bottle, spilled.
And a silent cell phone.
She woke up.
She woke up.
Her body didn’t.
About the Creator
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Bartender
On the heels of grief, pain bears down hard. On the heels of death, pain awakens the quiet place between the end of our own life and now. Feeling anything is like seeing a film and in black and white, slow motion, all sound turned off. Just watching. Gritting teeth, awkward smiles and bloody red eyes move around, scanning the others who are feeling something I don't want to feel, but I do. Escapism is all I have ever known. ~
By ROCK aka Andrea Polla (Simmons)3 days ago in Poets
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