deepundergroundpoetry.com
Lost
Lost.
I'm always getting myself lost.
I don't know whether if by accident or not.
Those woods,
They're so enthralling.
Calling for me for me every night,
Speaking for me by name,
Beckoning me,
“Run into the darkness,
Never look back to what you once loved.”
What is it?
What is the appeal of the dark,
The cold,
The gathering of the trees?
Whatever it could be,
The mystery of the dark,
It cries out to me.
I'm always getting myself lost.
I don't know whether if by accident or not.
Those woods,
They're so enthralling.
Calling for me for me every night,
Speaking for me by name,
Beckoning me,
“Run into the darkness,
Never look back to what you once loved.”
What is it?
What is the appeal of the dark,
The cold,
The gathering of the trees?
Whatever it could be,
The mystery of the dark,
It cries out to me.
Published 10th Dec 2018
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