I feel as though I am lingering in the shadows of life, and whatever it is that plagues me. A mystery, unfounded within the confines of this body and mind now possess my every thought. I hold my hands towards the shadows wondering if it could be death's hand grasping for mine, waiting to take me through another life. A life beyond my comprehension.
I see stars, not of night, but of confusion and the grasp of reality as it sets upon me like sun at dusk. I am flushed the same shade of crimson beneath the surface of this pale-mooned skin. My appearance as gloomy as a spring morning, yet the morning clears more frequently than me.
I feel my heart, not beating on a normal path, but pounding, as if it's trying to escape without me. It speaks to me in a faint whisper by daybreak, yet I have no answers.
My hands are held above me in desperation and despair alike, as I feed myself several little pieces of bottled hope. I sigh within my frown, not knowing if it's a new beginning or quick end, but I edge on, lurking in the shadows, still feeling ill.
Copyright © Sandra Adams