Lavish is the grass in which I find myself laying,
Staring at the sun, however not golden,
No; it bears streams of blood and a burnt exterior,
Leaving it the darkest of blacks.
I feel a numbness spreading throughout my fragile chest,
The rise and fall of my heaving chest ragged
As panic and confusion wash through my mind,
Leaving me broken, feeble, and untrusting.
Whispered words talk in the wind
As their dark lies assault my ears,
Forcing the tears to well and curses
To be spoken under my shallow breath.
They tell me that I will be okay;
They mutter that I overreact as they tease,
As they touch parts of me that later feel violated
As I sit, alone, in my room and here in this grass.
Then why, praytell, do I flinch when someone gets too close,
When their skin brushes my own?
All because of the monsters in my mind
Uttering whispered words and dark lies.
