I sit at the edge of this lake,
looking out into the calm water,
separating alternate dimensions.
As calmness surrounds me,
yet turmoil spins in my mind,
as being poked by needles.
My thoughts hurt with each upcoming,
burning holes through my skull,
wishing that I could shut this off.
Trying to let my surroundings help,
even so they make me worse,
as I see I will never reach that point.
Always being tormented by my thoughts,
of not having you with me here,
always running away from the truth.
Javier Falcon
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/torture-11/
