PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Brittle bones press against my flesh.

Hearing them creak and crack with each step.



Pain floods my senses,

Dragging myself up the cold stone stairs.



Trying to escape the dark,

It’s tangled around my legs.



The stairs are wet with my blood,

And I can't keep a good enough grip.



Instead I’m pulled back down,

Flesh on stone,

They glisten red once more.



Punched out all the mirrors,

Can't bare the sight they show.



Running away from all I’ve known.

Drive down the dark street.

Wish I could change all I hate about myself.

Then I wouldn’t know who I am.

Worse yet,

I'm not sure that would be a bad thing.



Wish I could find a connection,

Something to get me to forget myself,

Even for a short while.



Slowly the building crumbles around,

Destroying myself,

A little bit more each night.



But the lights come up on stage,

And the curtain begins to rise,

Am I ready for another show?

Do I have it left in me?



Pulling off the toughest act each and every night.

To act like I’m ok,

When I’m falling apart inside.



Smiling and laughing on cue,

While hiding my pain away,

Don’t let them on.



Don't want pity,

Don't want to scare them away.



Don't think they care to know,

How often I’ve thought about losing control.



Wishing I had the guts to just drive off the road,

To open the window and slip out,

To jump from the ledge.



What would they think of me then...

Would they still think I’m the same?

How would they feel?

If they knew I fooled them all.



I laugh and joke at my past mistakes,

Yet they kill me each and every night.



There tearing at my heart,

Biting my soul,

Ripping it to shreds.



Slowly loosing it all,

Hiding it all away.



What I’ve done,

What I’ve tried to do,

And what's been done to me.



No one knows,

And I’m too scared to tell anyone.



I think it might be time for the show to end,

The final act of desperation.

The final yell for help,

But by then,

Too late.



I’ll have hit the tree,

Fell from the window,

Slipped off the ledge.



By then the curtains down,

And you are all exiting the hall.



I’ll be letters upon a stone,

And in a few days who will even remember my name.



The show will have come crashing down,

And all that’s left is the ashes of a failed attempt to live.