My world is a cemetery,
My home—a tombstone.
The sun fails to lend any light to a quick
Diminishing existence.
My eternal sleep restless and transient.
A pillow of despair and a covering of
Immaculate darkness, I reminisce—of
Things I never had.
A sadness creeps deep into my soul, yet
Where I once have sought an
Answer to myself—now I only wish for
An end to my suffering.
Deep down I feel reluctant to hear my
Heart's desire
Oh, how I look to my inner God—whom I
Don't worship—for guidance.
The end is near—yet I praise.
My fate was decided long ere I ever
Treaded onto the soil of my blessed
Planet, a speck in the schemes of the
Universe.
Vindication is near and Salvation lies in
The memories I endure and the hope I
Once bestowed upon myself.
About the Creator
Derrick Rybacki
I am 39 from a small town in Illinois. I have been an avid reader and aspiring writer all my life. I strive to be better than I was the day before and take life as it is. I write mostly stories and hope to one day see my name in print.
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📢 Raise Your Voice Thread: 04/25/2024
Our “Raise Your Voice Threads” are hosted every other Thursday at 12PM ET to offer creators more avenues to uncover exceptional stories on Vocal. As we are continuously searching for fresh creators and inspiring stories, this thread provides an opportunity to exchange and discuss the stories that have moved and motivated us on Vocal.
By Raise Your Voice by Vocalabout 15 hours ago in Resources
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
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