Numb

It's a cloud that rolls in,

Dark and stormy, it freezes

The mind and soul,

Whatever it pleases.

The power it comes,

It courses through veins and

Down to fingertips,

Strikes a fire in hand.

Winds and gales that scream,

Sucks out the last breath

From tired lungs,

Embraces you in death.

Tired eyes grow weary,

In numbness they streak

Tears like waterfalls,

Upon each rose-tinted cheek.

Reviews

[John the Baptist]

This can only be creeping death. A downer, but well expressed.

[Lovecraft]

That last verse is wonderfully sad. A storm of numbness, of feeling detached from it all. It deadens the "Soul", as it were. Difficult to rise above that in my experience. Like a dead weight dragging you down ever so steadily.

Expressively dark. I must say that I enjoyed this immensely.