Desolate

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Desolate

A big booth for one
Looking around
Not one drop of character
Not one that cares
Surrounded by darkness
Visions of angels and demons
Speaking silence
But with faces
Their soliloquy comes forth
“Ghosts and cobwebs
Haunting my memory”
Their feet are theirs
But the path is not their own
Bleeding eyes
Burning tongues
Cursing touch
Cowering now below
And I know this is not where I need to go