Lyin’ on the bed,
dreamin’ of nightmares I’ve never met.
A glittering show of blood,
a scene that surely won’t be done.

Tick-Tackin’ is the clock,
I just don’t care about those eerie sounds beyond the lock,
whispers full of black,
like someone is trying to enchant a cat.

Earin’ knock-knocks on the door,
Death itself is down the hall,
it’s close enough to make me scared,
but far enough I barely care.

Sparkin’ is the future,
even if I already see some ugly failures.
I’m afraid, but I don’t hide,
so why should I even think that despair that’s no longer mine?

How could you ever understand
The pain that you inflicted upon me
The dreams you left me with
The rerunning of shared moments

You walked away with a smile
While I stayed in the same place, empty
Stayed in the same feelings, hopes
Stuck in place, wondering why

You laughed, you soared, you ran
While I am paralyzed, trapped, clipped
Weighed down by the memories and emotions
You gave it back to me when you were done

You made new friends, new memories
I withdrew from mine, from myself
I hit replay every hour, every day
Holding what was left in vain

You looked forward, head held high
Mine dropped low, looking back
I called you my everything
You called me a steppingstone

How could you ever understand
When you can't even empathize
How could I ever understand
When I can't even let go

searching for a temporary fixation
that could fix your life,
you don't lack in the dedication department,
but your focus is scattered
and your effort's half-hearted.
and you want to get out of here so badly,
stuck in a loop of endless quotations,
but your mind's been underperforming lately,
sending out "save the date" invitations
to a preemptive memorial service.
that grave's been waiting around for a purpose
ever since the first final warning.
you're not stalling, just weighing your options,
looking convincing in that little black lie.
maybe calling it quits is your calling,
doubling down on the hibernation mode,
half-awake around half past five,
searching for a temporary fixation
that could fix your life.

As we sit, take our seats in the banquet hall,
everyone rushes to be the first to feast,
while we’re left choking on the past.
Does no one hear the wind,
wailing against the stained glass?

Silver goblets raised in mock celebration,
filled with the essence that I poured.
Gleeful toasts echo against fractured stone,
laughter filling the banquet hall.
Does no one see the blood,
dripping down these chains?

A little too late,
they finally look around.
The stained glass has cracked,
its stories bleeding out onto the marble floor.
The drapes now hang in tatters,
lace left ripped in shreds.

Is this what you wanted?
The desecration of this citadel?

As walls begin to tremble,
pillars groan under the weight of decay,
no one stays to help.
They run.
Feet that once stood in reverence
trample the sacred,
careless, unburdened.

But I remain.

Veins of frost cover the walls,
the ceiling yawns open, snuffing out the light,
and I cannot move.
Not as the glimmering chandeliers fall,
not as the stone gives way beneath me,
not as the ruins cave in.

As the winter chill creeps in,
the dust now settles.
Within the silence
of these hallowed grounds,
the echoes of laughter now lost.

As I watch from beyond.

A ghost draped in apathy,
watching the remnants of me buried,
watching the last echoes of my warmth
fade into cold ash.
Wondering if I will ever
rise back from the ashes.

No hands reach
into the wreckage.
No voices
call my name.
No one mourns.
And maybe
they never will.

it's not the kind of place
one wishes to return to,
its welcoming embrace
is made to suffocate.
i wish i could stray from
the path that leads me to it,
but it took everything,
it even claimed my name.
and now i've grown to hate it,
the sound of being seen;
shame makes a perfect rope
to hang my self-esteem.
the memories come in pairs,
but always black and white;
i know that place's a trap,
yet i still crawl inside.
now there is all this pain
preventing my escape,
it whispers "welcome back,
it's time to suffocate."

This feeling won’t leave me,
It presses harder with my footsteps.
What is it, following me ceaselessly,
Keeping me alert wherever I am?

If you ask me, I won’t give an answer.
You told me to write it down—so I started leading a diary.
Anyone would confuse my notes for a ******’s.
It’s ironic that I’m willing
To dwell in asylum.

Because—

I worry about people who don’t deserve it.
I’m scared I’ll forever be skulking from problems.
And why do I only feel happy and free
When I daydream, walking in circles for years?

the people of loss
have nothing on us,
pillows of unravelling floss.

only the pillow knows,
a pedestal for weakness,
our shared bygones.

To capture, nurse, and, hold,
the unfairness of it all.
The rapturous, coal-
heartedness, of Hellish
snares, beneath, the Mall.
When, afterwards, those
cauldrons, spout nightly
mares, of, bridled gall.
The captor cursed, his embold-
ened heir, is, a;
hairless toupee,
sheared, and, effortlessly, shorn.

The flesh, is, pierced,
and, punctured, by, the
blade of wickedness.
A chest, buried, by, the weir
-y, encumbered. Wreaths are
laid, by, Triffid's Bliss.
Sounds of stress, fierce,
and, repugnant, line, the
glades, of, Inner Wist.
As, the Rest, rely on tears,
while, torn asunder, cutting
their way, through, thicker mist.

The end,
much like, the start,
starts with,
a flashing in the pan.
As, the friend-
ship sunk, apart,
embarks, for Unhappiness,
with, Sad.
Send your dogged
embittered bark,
hearts hear no sorries,
in a lost, unlistened land.
And, you can't mend
a broken heart,
when broken hearts
is all we've had.

© poormansdreams