deepundergroundpoetry.com
Cries In The Night (Pint-Sized Poem #49)
Sometimes I can't help but wonder about the crying I use to hear.
The soft and quiet whimpering of broken and secret tears.
It use to haunt me, late through the night.
It would often wake me and give me quite a fright.
But now I wonder. . .
Was it really the ghosts of lost souls?
People I would never ever know?
Or was it just myself. . .
Crying to be saved from this shell--
Of who I use to be.
Instead of ghosts--
Were the cries in the night, really in the end just me?
The soft and quiet whimpering of broken and secret tears.
It use to haunt me, late through the night.
It would often wake me and give me quite a fright.
But now I wonder. . .
Was it really the ghosts of lost souls?
People I would never ever know?
Or was it just myself. . .
Crying to be saved from this shell--
Of who I use to be.
Instead of ghosts--
Were the cries in the night, really in the end just me?
Published 7th Jun 2014
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 1
reading list entries 0
comments 1
reads 55
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
7th Jun 2014 10:57pm
