PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I walk down the narrow dark hall,

Clouded moonlight offers little light through the barred windows,

My dark room awaits me,

There is no light there,

And the only sounds will be the chilling wind and dripping water from within the walls,

On top of my own whimpering as I cower in the corner,



Legs bent and head resting on knees, I cry, alone,

Water drips down the dull concrete blocks and forms a pool beneath,

Each drip that cascades down represents each tear I cry,

The dripping won’t cease, nor will my tears,

The monotonous sounds of dripping water and chilling wind forcing through the door drill into my head,



I start to rock, reaching inside myself for comfort,

Searching for a fond memory, anything that will help,

But I am empty, and as cold as the solid stones that make up my square dungeon,

So I sit and I rock, and I listen to the water and the wind,

Til I eventually fall asleep,

Head laying in a pool of water,

And my body rests.