Posted by tina on January 10, 2003, at 11:35:41
The air grows thin
All hope for tomorrow
worn away with endless pacing on it's surfaceThe candle is about to go out.
The wick is short
and the flame falters
The darkness is nearOn the air there is a whisper
An echo in time
Just a moment
One moment
A rush of memory in a cold breeze
and the candle is fueled again
The light comes up and I am no longer alone
I am surrounded by ghosts.I crawl to the corner and press my back to the hard rough stone
They watch me
always
They see what I feel
Their gaze pierces flesh like broken glass
Cover my ears
Close my eyes
But there is darkness thereThe air grows thin
The candle goes out
I am alone in the pitch black
Memory is what haunts me
Hunts me
There is no peace here
Only the whispers of the ghosts
poster:tina
thread:946
URL: http://www.dr-bob.org/babble/2000/20020724/msgs/946.html