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Category: Writing and Poetry



In the corner of a room, a bed

A bed where my folorn soul sleeps in a desperate attempt to forget what happen yesterday

And hope that the endless solitude that lies within me will finally let me go tomorrow 

A bed where im desperately wanting to get out of, but never leaving

a bed, with the most horrible smell; agony

The pillows are wet, gray and wrinkly 

wrinkly from screams full of agony, Frustration and anger

Wet and gray from tears full of guilt and sorrow

the bed cover loosened and bloody

loosened from the constant restless commotion 

Bloody from scratched open wounds in attempt to feel something

The bed sheets warm

But the body bitterly cold and full with raw wounds

Visually and mentally



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