dark poetry, life, mental illness, mental illness poetry, poetry

Madness of Mental Abuse

If I sit very still
and breath very softly
I can still hear
the sound
of your insanity
The way it went right
into my nervous system
like a thousand volts
of death…
In the insidious
blackness that comes
If I sit very quietly
I can hear your screaming
Your act upon my stage
that was as real
to my mind
as the blood
coursing through
my veins
Every graphic detail
entering my senses…
Tearing apart my soul
If I sit very quietly
in the darkness
of the 3 am hour
Before the sun rises
Before life renews
I can hear your screaming
Threatening me
that you will stab the scissors
through your neck…
Impale the blade
straight through my heart
Splattering your blood
in my mind
With utter terror
and surreal horror
That would make anyone
teater on the edge
of their own
precarious sanity…
If I sit very quietly
in the darkness of night
the fear attacks my mind
I hear your voice inside
The way it sounded
on the phone..
Desperate and angry
Intentionally drawing me
to the edge of madness..
Your life
seemingly hanging
in the ragged net
that you handed me
to hold …
Demanding that
I do not fail…
What is more frightening?
Dare I ask the question
that plagues me?
Do I dare?
Ask the question?
The question that taunts me
and laughs at me…
Tempts me to dance
with its shadow
Like a psychopathic lover
grabbing my wrists
too hard…
What is the more terrifying reality?
That you were disturbed enough
to place the blade
of rusting scissors
against your neck?
Or that there were never
any scissors there?