I'm drowning in still waters
Screaming quietly into shadows
My distress comes from the past
The storm itself is over
But the inertia of the debris
Crashing into my life
Still wreaks havoc on my soul
The knife has been removed
The bleeding staunched
But the infection slowly spreads
Incurable under my closed skin
How can i fight the aftermath?

by Abigail Hauschild

Comments (1)

This is a great poem and shows real talent. Amen to everything John Westlake said. When I first saw the title to this poem, I thought: Hmmm... after math, it's English class, or maybe P.E.