Wednesday, May 25, 2011


A sound, a creak, the ticking of a clock.
Exhaustion takes over but respite is distant.
Delusions in the dark dominate perception,
And in hopes of rescue, the soul screams silently.


Light tries to dissuade flighty notions.
But there is only so much brightness in this world.
Their existence is translucent and vague,
And they are attracted to the horrid and degenerate.


The being cannot help but question your actions.
Narrow and self-indulgent are their minds.
Goons and foes, uncaring and withdrawn,
And you try to forgive and hope to forget.


Rush in then, simple times of content delirium.
Wish upon a wish that everyone was like you.
They do not persist, they do not plead,
And life is lived each day as it comes.

A pretense of an unloving existence.

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