by Juliet Romano

Created on: February 20, 2010

It's three in the morning,
In my desolate, untidy, little room.
Shadows keep me company,
They dance as the moon moves,
Across the window and out of sight,
The sink leaks onto the ground,
Slowly, like the coming of death,
Noises, creeping up my spin,
Much like the drug they injected for hysteria,
Upon my bed lays a figure,
It is me, silent as lamb,
Or perhaps my throat is too dry?
I utter no sound as the tendrils of sleep
Rise up from my feet,
Caressing my face like a lover,
And in the emptiness,
I cannot envision, the solitude that I am in,
But I am happy am I not?
The crowded rooms of life
are full of fear and betrayal,
And here in this desolation,
This cold and concrete reality,
I can finally find solace.

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