deepundergroundpoetry.com

The Twilight.

Where do we go from here, how do we know-
Maybe I've written my last poem-
Sowed the last of my wild oats-
What do we do when we see the roads end-
Made our last friend-
Think of all the bridges burned-
And friends with whom we didn't make amends-
When the twilight beckons-
And all the songs we hear, incites reminiscence-

Where do we go from here, I'm not the only one-
Cause inside we all know this, and share a common-bond-

When the photographs in the scrap-book take on that old worn-out look-
Seems like a lifetime ago, but you recollect the exact time and place they were took-
And you look at the people in them and think, "Damn, how they've changed-
I know, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 of my friends, who have already left this fucked-up place-

Where do we go from here, I know I'm not the only one-
Cause inside we all share this, and know our common-bond-
Though we don't want it, time moves on-

And in this crazy fucking insane-asylum, that we call home-
Smiles are rare, if you can find one-
Call it your own-





Written by hungrypan74 (Dantalyon)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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