Young Writers Society

It twists and turns and shifts
all around, all around my head.
Flickering dots everywhere
paintings bleeding red.

I blink and then they're gone again,
left staring at the dark.
The void of nothing all around,
the silent central spark.

I start to run away from nothing,
just drowning out my thought
with the pattern of my pounding heart,
the peace that I sought.

But the mission's all for nothing,
it simply cannot be
for the dark and the clouds and the shadow ones-
-they follow me.

Around and around and around it goes,
swimming all through me.
In the silence I can hear-
-I can hear it breath.