The dark clouds circle,
within my life.
Nothing seems right,
nothing but strife.
I did this wrong.
I made this bad.
Everything's gone.
Everything I had.
To another life,
to begin again.
To the endless darkness,
where the nothing begins.
I believe there is nothing
but endless silence.
No poverty or money,
no beauty or violence.
I will not be a burden.
I will not bother you.
I am becoming nothing.
There's nothing to do.
Off to a darkness,
where I do not exist.
Silence, shadows,
a dark sleep persist.
Whispers in the air
down to my core.
The wonders of being here,
then being here no more.
As the whispers say to,
no one can tell.
Will I go to heaven
or enter into hell.
By: Kathleen Como
About the Creator
Kathleen McClenahan Como
I am an artist that paints ceramics and makes crafts.
I enjoy travel writing and poetry that comes from the heart.
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More stories from Kathleen McClenahan Como and writers in Poets and other communities.
The Piggy Project
I’ve had so many names in this life I lose track of which ones were ever really mine and which ones I wore because someone needed me to. Some were handed to me before I had words to refuse them, before I knew what they meant, before I knew I could say no. Most weren’t meant to hurt. That doesn’t mean they didn’t leave marks. Marks that told me who I belong to, who I am by way of who claims me, recognizes me in the good and bad, who walks beside me.
By Fatal Serendipity3 days ago in Confessions
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