A Bit of Dark Poetry


Wasting the hour like an ash in the wind.
Blowing through life without a purpose to live.
Some days are crooked and other days are curved.
Some weeks are focused, others are blurred.
Walking on life while the graves waste away.
Retired, undesired boxes of decay.
The hopeless and restless squeeze between the boards
While darkness and mystery pour in by the hoards.
All I can say is “continue to breathe”
Because without darkness, light can’t be retrieved.
Just hang on tight and I’ll survive for us both
With enough love you have no choice but to float.
Things can only go up when your so far down
Even if your panicking six feet underground.
I can hear you digging. I can hear you scream.
But the only place I can save you is within my dream.
Only you can reach the light.
You say a fighter,
I say a knight.
Just remember in most stories
Everything turns out alright.

    – Rhonda Farabee

Diary of a Painted Soul

Yellow Creek Park

By: Rhonda Farabee

Over and under, under and out.
This isn’t the place that I dream about.
Happy people and faces that shine.
No one knows that I hit rewind.
Backwards motion is all I see.
What goes forward confuses me.
Blurred vision, corrupted mind,
dreadful thoughts of ties that bind.
Where are you and where am I?
You’re in the future and I’m behind.
I watch you paint the face of pain
and pain the face that shall remain,
but once again I only find
this twisted logic of my mind.

                                       – Rhonda Farabee