Caves

I burrow in silence locked in the depths of a grave. I need no more guidance as I dwell in my hollow cave. Unknown whispers…they creek and moan and I am left breathless trying to pick up the pieces of my last transgression. I’ve been here before. I’ve gained and I’ve lost and somewhere in between I remain unstable. I want to dig a deep hole to bury my head. It would be covered in soil and would reek of regret. Above the grass yet below the trees I live in a cavern made of clay and hard stone. It shadows each memory and releases all the reasons why I hate myself. Please...no more thinking about the reasons I need to stay alive. I ask the cold stone why I am left to starve in such darkness made by my own hands. He tells me I forgot how to be sane and my mania needed to take a break. I created a world of flashbacks leading to my miserable life. Each flashback contains less joy and each time of joy makes me shutter in ugliness. I am undeserving of such things. Under the brink of my life lies understanding of why I have been abandoned by everyone I know. They all say I am worthless and mean nothing to them. I agreed with them and left as soon as the twilight hit midnight and before the dew spread across the land. I cry out to the constellations and ask for forgiveness of my mistakes made intentionally. I am nothing but a sorry cause ready to take flight on top of a black dove. White doves are pure and innocent. Black doves are a reflection of my poor soul. I have seen the depth of this cavern for so long I think I am turning into a man without a thought. No eyes to see inside a home of obscurity. Murky and dusty I feel so alone that I wish to breathe no more. It’s so stuffy in the shadows. The fog outside tries to shield me from the bitterness of my resentments, but it carries not enough strength to achieve such a goal. I have nothing more to give and no more reasons to live. I have so much to forgive and please one more sedative. I have no more lies to spill and no more time to kill. I have no more cries to thrill and no more rhyme to quill. -there is no more hope inside your soul when you’re a caveman. Caves Contest Sponsor: Anthony Slausen Date Written: August 3, 2016