Eternity's Clock

Wow the things you find cleaning out your closet! :) I wrote this poem a couple years ago.

ETERNITY'S CLOCK

As I glance at Eternity's clock

I know I have done wrong

My fear time seems to mock

I know there isn't long.

I gaze up at the wall

And hear the clock of time

On my ear its voice falls

And I ask how long 'til it chimes?

Above are Heaven's gates

Opened wide to all 

Beneath the clock, Hell waits

For me to step wrong and fall.

Then I hear a voice

Gently call my name

And I finally make my choice

My life will never be the same.

Honest Critiquing

I've been thinking about writing style and such and I'd love if I could get some honest critiquing of my writing. Stuff like do I not develop the characters or plot enough, do I build up and then let you down with my endings? Do I tell too much instead of showing? Is my writing dry? Please, I'm looking for honesty not sugar coated compliments 'cause sometimes you can see weaknesses in my writing that I can't and I really would love to improve so ideas???

Fate

     Originally posted with the title Haunted on Wordpress then re-posted as Fate on my Tumblr. I was just having fun with words, but I gotta admit this was written during one of my dark periods.


     Sometimes I feel so hollow and empty and void inside, just full of darkness in an unfilled, lonely, aching way and yet it’s numb…. how can u feel so much and so little at once. Angry black clouds thundering over my soul, lightning ripping through my heart, tearing me to pieces and I shatter like porcelain and fall to the ground like a scared little girl, building walls around myself to block out the pain but it’s inside of me, echoing on the stone walls, the vast emptiness inside me hurling the words, swirling around me until I sink into the deepest despair, hurting myself worse by trying to block myself from the light where no love can touch me.
     I tend daily to the grudges and scars like a little flower garden, but it’s a garden the color of death, everything shades of grey and wilted and dead. Everything breathes cold aloneness and desolate, barren, wastelands, like frozen muck ruts in winter…. snow covering everything in sight, snow is beautiful right? But something about this isn’t beautiful in the slightest, not that I can see, can you find beauty through lonely aching, through gaping wounds that won’t heal, hot pus oozing from the disgusting scabs, and the scars are worse, ugly, thick and fluorescent white… sticking out marring the landscape.
     I need someone, I KNOW I need someone, but I can’t get through the walls I made, the fortress I’ve built to guard my heart has become my own prison and I claw the walls til my fingers bleed and I won’t get anywhere. As I lay my head against the wall and watch the streaks of blood from my torn fingers run slowly down the stone wall towards the ground thirsting for my blood the tears come, hot tears almost blood themselves. What have I become?
     The demons inside of me are tearing me apart and I can’t escape, I can’t climb the walls of this hell hole I’m trapped inside, I can’t claw through them, there’s no way to escape, so I just turn and look my demons in the eyes, facing my fate head on spreading my arms not even flinching when they shred my chest to get to my heart and soul. I look at in their hands and am empty, I don’t feel, I don’t think, I’m like a zombie as they chain me against the cool clammy walls. I sink to the miry, cold, hard floor without a struggle… I’m resigned to my fate… spending eternity in this dark wasteland reeking of death inside of me.