Darkness
The Horror Gripping Me in the Midst of Depression
It's like walking alone through a cold, dark tunnel, trying to find a way out.
I keep walking, sometimes running
trying to escape the noise
the screams
the cries
the banging
the heart-wrenching racket
Sometimes it's music, a song of sadness, or a soul-captivating bass guitar.
The lyrics are sometimes easy to understand
yet other times, it's just a screaming voice
Along the way, I sometimes find the sun shining through a window.
I run towards it only to find that it was merely a painting
NOTHING REAL
There's a strobe light at the end of the tunnel
Only flashes of light
Ultimately darkness.
I'm wandering around, sometimes frantically
Searching.
Searching for life
Searching for a way out
Searching for something real
Sometimes I find a small corner and curl up like a child.
Waiting
Hoping someone will find me
but no one is searching for me
it's as if I don't exist
I don't belong on the outside of the tunnel, where the rest of the world lives.
I'm stuck here
No way out
This is My World
This is My Death
About the Creator
Keep reading
More stories from Wendi Elliott and writers in Poets and other communities.
Reaching Out
I promise her. I'd do anything for her. She's my mom. Even as Lanie and Deanna are flying home, Mom is scrappy fighting dying. She lays too still in that too-big bed with all the toasty white hospital blankets, in the south tower, at the broad end of a long slow-turning corner that delivers me again to her private room with the view she can't see through, with the beeping that tells us nothing new, and all these ice chips she can't swallow, and a flood of well-intentioned nurses who cannot do a damned thing all the same.
By Christy Munson4 days ago in Fiction
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.