Forget Stories

This poem only available on Stories Space. If you are reading it elsewhere, it has been stolen.Languishing dreams where a heart grows still,Slowing tick of the clock drives distraction toDeath's resurrection inGrey of the dayWhere the sun has lost hope andThe curtains are drawn.Here I lie in the dark with the monsters of crowds,Where the gibber and growl of the wraiths howl insideAnd the pain rends destructionThrough chas...

It is said That the wolf Is an omen A evil spirit A creature who Hunts for the kill And only the kill I might suppose so But who really Knows Perhaps it is just Angry Maybe in search of Something more The wolf Came upon An act so cruel It haunts the wolf And makes it Kill Because that is The only way It can forget

Underneath my exterior that tries to convince the world that yeah, I’m tough as fucking nails, there lies that same frightened child, who still hears her screams and pleads for mercy, the same time, every night, begging for him to leave her alone. But every night he haunts her nightmares, her fevered insomniac dreams, which threaten to consume her in their flames. She can still taste him on her, and it’s been a hundred ye...