POETRY

008 — Sonnet — Distant

The healer of loss

Empty, this is not how it should be This pain endured is not deserved Internally masking the screams of banshee Perceived as solus, must remain reserved

Eyes glazed as days pass Whispers so close they can be felt The mirrors reflection clear as glass A torturous hand inevitably misdealt

Trapped within the walls of oneself Nowhere to escape dreams reform as nightmare Growing pressure to wish farewell Head filled with despair

This time will pass, once again, become one A shared destiny soon to be re-run