Sounds of night, silent under the stars, afraid to speak
or move.
Frightened as a baby bird when falling from it's nest,
contained in the abyss of unforgiven love.
Requiem music playing itself under shrouds of deepest night,
consequently bypassing the sanity of expansive thought.
Alone, standing in the forsaken spotlight of total
abandonment, lost forever in inane thoughts.
Wild conversations never seem to materialize, instead, they
just wallow in the backwash of another time.
Standing in the deepest mire on earth, farther from any
shore ever been upon.
Totally alone and in a suicidal mode of thought, waiting
to be acted upon by a teenager who has just been raped.
RoseAnn V. Shawiak
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/suicidal-mode-of-thought/
