The crack is always there,

no matter how busy I keep myself,

the yawn in the fabric

of the walls leers at me,

sneers with contempt;

it has no need to beckon me closer

for it knows I will eventually succumb

because I am always curious

of just how dark the scene is.

 

I could scream in the darkness

for no one truly hears

above the muffled, stifled gag

as the words catch me

in the back of the throat,

so instead I hide myself away,