Shrouded in black, hidden in mystery,
The loner makes haste to the apothecary.
He looks at the shelves to find a drug,
A potion, anything to act as a plug.

A makeshift dam to stop the tears.
A barrier to stop the fears.
He spies something on the top shelf,
Writing inscribed around the image of an elf.

Curious, he climbs the ladder,
Somehow afraid it'd make him sadder.
But alas, he is drawn to this enchanting sight
Pulling him closer like a moth to a light.

He lifts the jar, holding it up like a charm,
His sleeve dropping, revealing cuts on his arm.
He looks at the jar, and freezes inside.
What he sees releases feelings he hides.

A swirling storm of light and dark,
On his heart it leaves a mark.
A dent of pain, of lies, of truth.
Of his hidden emotions here is the truth.

So hypnotising is the jat in his hand
He failed to notice the blood as it ran
From his wrists and dropped to the floor.
He soon followed, breathing no more.

Tweet

Comments on this poem/writing:

Click here to read other Poems by Mike

Copyright©2017-1999 by Rebecca R. Hammack

COPYRIGHT NOTICE: All Rights Reserved.   No part of this website, including all pictures and written words,  may be reproduced or copied in any manner from this website without  permission of the original author of the work.  All poetry and pictures herein remain the sole property of the original author and/or copyright owner.  All poetry on this website has been submitted by the original author of the work. To contact any author of the work please e-mail: dreamer@dreamersreality.com  so the proper person may be notified.