HAMPTON RENAISSANCE

Until Morning 

by Layla Kennedy

 

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Read White Only from Bottom to Top 

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What is it about the night that ponders my awakened thoughts?

When everything is quiet, yet screaming in my mind, 

The gentle breeze that taunts me from the window, 

The tunnel vision of your intentions, yet I still feel blind, 

Or the way you circle through my mind more often than not, 

Always feeling one step further behind. 

How do you creep through my skin chilling my bones, 

Do you like feeding me poison in my sleep? 

Interfering my presence with your shadow and even so, 

You break me with words as a fragile antique, 

You crash through my walls throwing sticks and stones, 

And yet you manage to have me under lock and key. 

Am I just a pawn in your game of chess? 

More of a broken puppet that is stringed along 

Are you happy? Are you proud? 

Of always believing that I am in the wrong, 

It’s slowly eating away at me nevertheless, 

On a wrecked ship of the night terror’s siren song. 

Yet I long to play and want to be part, 

Wanting to know the monster that's under my bed, 

Of being lost in the loneliness, lost in the dark, 

Of all the things that are left unsaid, 

Into the depths of the hole that lies in my heart 

Here comes the infamous morning of which I dread.