This is another one of my poems from my high school days that I was able to protect from Jack A. Anything that I wrote while under his roof had to be hidden. I truly believe that if he had caught me with any of it, he would have killed me.
Like the Grimm Reaper, I walk a fine line.
Living in the eternal hell of hatred peppered with desolation.
Possessing no illusions and blotting out all consciousness.
The seconds are slipping by like sand through my fingers.
I can hear the seconds ticking and tocking.
TICK TOCK TICK TOCK DING
It’s precision bringing me closer to the end.
Synchronized in time in which we all dance with death.
I dance alone. I know the end is near.
My body becoming a canvas of tortured vessels.
All of the colors are gray and black.
Mirroring my world and it’s inferno of midnight.
Living without a soul and without feelings.
I have become numb, losing all sense of humanity.
He is the pilot of my slow walk to death.
Unable to stop or slow this forced pace.
I can feel the cold hand of the reaper on my neck.
Beckoning me closer to death.