Internal II (wanderer)

there is someone wandering around
on the inside of my 
head 
she and i are not the same
and she often wishes I were 
dead 

she whistles haunting tunes, a sickly sweet 
into my 
               ear,
a restless hum of seething rage 
to fill my veins with 
endless fear

she bids the sorrow that wears me
thin, 
the curtains veiling a hollow
skin,            (a shell of a girl)
one day closer to the eventual 
end, 
and i know, she will be the very last friend
i ever see


~ A. L. Stippich

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: