This is the same night before
the same darkness at the door
and it leaks through the lock
a twisted shadow growing along the walls.
This is the same old story
with the same old ending
when rosy fingered dawn chokes
the darkness down
and I stand witness to the crime
Who knows what a thing like guilt
will do to a thing like me
all pulse and shock
I am tonight a dreamthing
a knotted string swingin above the bed
spelled to catch what I may
my being growing taut with fear
the edges of who I am drip with dread.
a long knot of anticipation
and a loose strand
No comments:
Post a Comment