Christine Lockehart

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What Hurts The Most

It's not what is
It's what was

Collapsed memories lost among the ash

Guide Me Through The Night

A neverending void of darkness
Pure black

I am lost

Trapped By The Past

Too many bridges to burn,
These cold, rusted shackles hold me back,
The numerous memories eating at my attempts of freedom.
From the depths of my mind,

The Shadow

All alone.
Or am I?
I sense his presence
Watching through the corners of my eyes

Little Dreamer

Little dreamer
So young and naive
For the World is not as you've been taught to percieve
No buttercups, sugar plums, rainbows, or glee


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8/4/2021 5:17:31 PM #