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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Adult · #1334891
A short poem I wrote years ago.
I take a look down the street and
This is what I see:
Through the fog it comes
To me.

I'm on a street corner
And the light's changed twice
If I go home now it's over
And that will not suffice.

Carry me, deeper, deeper
So I can share a silence with my soul's keeper
And I look upon, with newborn eyes,
This is what I see:

The druggie.
You see him sit, he looks defeated,
His tears are all long depleted
And maybe he hoped,
For hope
But hope
Is fleeting
Just like this tired travesty.

That man's a smarter man
Than many and I could ever
Hope to be.

He and I had sat alone,
As he had spoke of worlds unknown,
And as he did, he opened up
A bit of insight inside me:

Why does his gifted curse,
Give such demons unto he?
Why does that relief of braincells
Cause him such tranquility?

His mind's a journey
(Like ours the same)
A question burns before it's o'er,
But now that's tamed.

Because of this bowl of greens
Those pills like sugarcoated dreams
That question falls between the cracks
To lay him back, help him relax
Until too late
It floods like blood
And we come to
Our current scene.

From him there's no wisdom left to glean. And
I see why now to go, would be my undoing scheme.
© Copyright 2007 Sebastian Tate (sebastiantate at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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