I should have died five years ago,
a ghoul beneath the ground-
to save me from the witch I am-
from these relentless hounds.
I have no home; I am alone.
There is no one like me.
A cage -a hole -a great glass box
afloat an endless sea.
Of storms and islands I know well
for I have been them too.
There is no wave that knocks me down
quite like the way you do.
I hear you speak within my head
though you’ve been gone for years.
There is no comfort in the sun,
no way to squelch these fears.
You are the reason I sit here -
bronze statue built of death.
Afraid to move for fear of life,
and using my last breath.
Lauren Hamm is a cat loving library enthusiast who survives on writing and black coffee. She may be part feline and spends her time at home sitting in the sun and reading. She wants fellow survivors to know they’re never alone.
