Pure Silver
The inhale, the exhale. It seems like way too much sometimes, the suffocating beat of my own heart, sounding off like the ticking of a doomed clock, that's taking way too long to stop. When will it end…the madness screaming from within, such violent screams taking that part of me I beg to exist. The inhale, the exhale. It tortures me, taking way too long to unwind, fragments of hope lost inside the sands of time, a grain I'm thrust upon, leading the blind, Watching the shadows trapped in the walls, taking the loss, then taking it all. Still it comes rolling back again. The inhale, the exhale. A pause between that taunts me, open my eyes just to spite me, closing the door, but only slightly. The inhale, the exhale. It's far too much for me to bare.
Copyright © Robert Cook | Year Posted 2026
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