top of page

William R. Harvey Pirate Poetry Contest Winner


The Hours that Haunt Me

Layla Kennedy

Here comes the infamous morning which I dread.
Of all the things that are left unsaid,
Wanting to know the monster that's under my bed.
On a wrecked ship of the night terror’s siren song,

Of always believing that I am in the wrong,
More of a broken puppet that is strung along.
You manage to have me under lock and key,
You break me with words and tarnish me to every degree,
Do you like feeding me poison in my sleep?
Always feeling one step further behind,
A tunnel vision of your intentions yet I still feel blind,
When everything is quiet yet screaming in my mind.
But what happens in the night that ponders my awakened thoughts,
Is it the gentle breeze that taunts me from the window?
Or the way you circle through my mind more often than not?
How do you creep through my skin, chilling my bones?
Interfering my presence with your shadow and even so,
You crash through my walls throwing sticks and stones.

Am I just a pawn in your game of chess?
Why you do this to me is anyone’s guess,
But it’s slowly eating away at me nevertheless.
Yet I long to play and want to be part,
Of being lost in the loneliness, lost in the dark,
Into the depths of the hole that lies in my heart,
Now comes the infamous morning once more which I dread.
Oh, how I wish we can meet in the dark once again.

bottom of page