The Most Frightening Thing

It is a scary event.

Uncontrolled.  Precariously exalted.


Black                                                                     and                                                                  white.

Throwing in some gray.

The first picture                                       the first scene.

The first act sets up the finale that breaks the soul.

There is no telling the end, only the repetition of the beginning.

Over and over it goes.

The fear of touch, the lack of touch.

Too much,

Touch                                                             in-between.

Skewed does the view come to me at night when sleep escapes                                          me.

But why?

I see my own, and others, and a mix of two people in one.

All intermingling,


three, and more.

The only way I see to get out is down.

The only truth is                                       Nothingness.

The deep.  Inward.  Silent.

The voices are finally leaving,                                                the thoughts no longer rambling.

After the event that played in my head, in my hands, at times, the tears come, but sobs remain, and I keep stringing myself along.

Freedom: what a strange concept.

No one around to hear my screams of peace.

I guess pain shows there is a need within the hole of life…


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