DISCLAIMER: I usually enjoy writing witty disclaimer, however writing this somewhat depressing piece stripped me of any need for humor. I do not own Harry Potter and Company. Now where's my Edgar Allen Poe?

AN: This is taking place in the 7th book, right before Ron leaves Harry and Hermione. Please review, even if you don't like it. But if you're going to be hateful or say something completely meaningless, refrain from reviewing. Thanks, and I hope you enjoy!


As I lay atop
My unclothed bunk
I sink into the thoughtlessness
Stifling heat has brought me
Slowly, drifting
Words, pictures
Come to mind
Faces of those I love
Faces of those I lost
Faces of those I must destroy
But soon they mix
Become fluid
As I feel the night's cool air
Slip under my skin
I no longer have control
Unconscious becomes conscious
As I view contorted images
No longer capable of dreams,
Horrors fill my head
And the most terrible thought of all
Is how calmly I sit and watch
But not
I wake up
Even my best friends will abandon me
Escaping the tent
Afraid of my gasping breaths
Leaving me to feel the dark
I have to go forward
By myself
Because I'm the only one
Too tired to be frightened
Too scarred to feel pain
Too weak to resist my own downfall
Powerless enough
To be powerful