I have been chasing happiness
I got left alone with misery.
Now she is my only company.
I could not, should not and would not let anyone else enter here.
Constant winter reigns filled with rage and grief.
No, no one else should enter here.
It's cold and the noise of pandemonium is too loud.
Each day the world casts millions like me away,
Down the drain.
Damaged goods with only tears to offer!
We only tell stories of death, loneliness and grief.
It's a damaged heart that cannot stop mourning.
There is no good or wrong. No heaven nor hell.
Thousand nails are ripping my heart to shreds.
Till my rivers of tears start to run dry
My home lays in darkness.
About the Creator
Liga Stromberga
Dark poetry in my heart from the cradle to the grave.
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Clinging to Childhood
The playground is empty, as it should be past sundown. There is a warm breeze, and I can see everything despite the late hour. What time is it, anyway? It could very well be past midnight. I can never keep track of time, especially in the summer. A prickly piece of popcorn hides like a stowaway in the left cup of my padded training bra. I stuffed the tissue in last minute— a decision I’m beginning to regret, based on the events that are unfolding rapidly before me. To my left, laying non-chalantly on his back, is my date for the evening. He is two years older, could probably grow facial hair if he wanted to, and drives a secondhand Honda. He may as well be a Man. I, on the other hand, feel like a fraud with my too-short short-shorts, sparkly lip gloss, and makeshift push-up bra. I keep my arms pinned to my sides as I feel the dreaded circles of sweat beginning to manifest on my brand new Abercrombie top. I cup my elbows with my hands and stare down at my hint of cleavage, praying that the tissue doesn’t pop out like a white flag surrendouring my lack of womanhood.
By Marti Maley7 days ago in Fiction
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