Image credit:  Gagan, Wikimedia Commons

The Darkness

What’s that hiding within the deep dark walls
the voices of secrets scattered in time
or is it the presence, through chaos it calls
It speaks through the darkness, the lies, and the crime

It’s the feeling you get when you’re all alone
the hair on your arm, it raises so still
Heart beating so fast, it skips like a stone
it’s the back of your neck when met with a chill

It’s the warmth of his eyes that pulls you aside
the unexplained roar that echoes in your head
The absence of safety, nowhere to hide
the voice of the lost, the discarded, the dead

It’s the small purple flower that wilts in the rain
A darkness that’s tempting, desirable pain

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April 2012 Issue: Youthink Magazine