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by Logan
Rated: E · Poetry · Dark · #2182393
"We each owe a death, there are no exceptions. But sometimes the Green Mile seems so long"
Night Watch [Closure, Part I]

All along the night watch,
the fallen take their place
They line a wall, bleached, whitewashed,
vacating mortal space

With faces pale, ashen
at the things that they've become
Phantoms... of a fashion
… wraiths who've had their run

Regret, it weighs in heavy,
despite the lack of paths
Guilt is slowly levied
as the sorrow turns to wrath

Anger at the choices,
or lack thereof it seems
Regardless of the voices,
that sound our darkest dreams

Narrating bleakest hours,
the blackened sand, it slips
Trembling 'neath bowers,
cowering and clipped

Wings viewed through glass darkly,
grounded where the narrows grip
The hours wind down starkly,
so granular the drip

Mortality made substance,
in the absence of the light
So mordant with reluctance,
leaving little to the night

But the sound of shallow breathing,
as the poppy's do their work
Through life blood, slowly streaming,
sheathed a slow stiletto, dirk

A blade forged dull to hide in day,
to do it's job at night
Cold steel keen, beneath the grey,
so stealthful, out of sight

Waiting for the night to drop,
horizons, take their fall
Waiting for the sand to stop,
… the Night Watch takes it all
© Copyright 2019 Logan (stipey at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2182393