Idle

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Fingers run through hair and a few strands are left on hands

Ears filled with sound but cannot answer the demands

Feet walk until they can move no more

Made plenty of shots, just can’t seem to score

Legs have become stiff from running no where

Inhaling deeply but can’t smell the air

Shadows mimic the darkest night

Eyes wide open but can’t see the light

From this nightmare, must be awakened

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Fear so paralyzing the soul is shaken

Not knowing the direction to commence

Standing still in the heat of suspense

Waiting for any type of sign

Unaware of all hints of time

 

For more poetry and prose, check out The Good, The Bad & The Ugly: The Struggles of Being Bipolar

 

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