Ill

 

I’m tired
Shaking greed
I’m trembling inside
Why don’t I die
I want to cry
But the tears won’t come
The eyes won’t bleed
My hand won’t cease
To creep across my paper
My soul won’t travel
Why won’t I dangle on the edge
Of my own death
Growing calmer
But your voice instigates
My hate
I can’t stand you
Regrets
I wish you could feel this
I wish you’d hesitate
When you start in on my downfalls
You push me three more steps
Closer to the edge of my death
If only I could trade in my anger
For your illusion. 

By Amanda Burns

© Amanda Saylor nee Burns. All rights reserved