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by Logan
Rated: E · Poetry · Experience · #2196863
One that's been bobbing round a while
Midnight's Journey

Deep into the witching time,
I die a little more inside
Watching as the hours climb,
so green, they creep and slowly ride

“You've only got yourself to blame”
such voices, dark and black accuse
“You've had your chances in this game,
you never rolled, you didn't choose”

But in my way, I rolled my best,
… just never added up to much
Never been that good at tests,
never had much luck as such

Never sure of where I stood
never queried, asking why?
Asking questions that you should,
too afraid to fall, to try

A heart so out of practice, use,
with targets rarely shot or seen
A mind that's twisted in its noose,
tangled up in where its been

Lost out in the wilderness
Lost in doubt, two steps behind,
with actions rendered meaningless,
regardless how inferred, entwined

Regardless how bound up they are,
in fabricated, pipe bomb schemes
Skylines lit with moons and stars,
candescent, candy cotton dreams

Dreams that choke up on such nights,
in witching hours long and stark
Such voices chatter in the light
whilst mine... they whisper in the dark
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2196863