deepundergroundpoetry.com

Morning

Grey skies push my thoughts to rain
desolation of dream
demanding
stained,
straining to stay alive

no comb crosses this head
it only stings
water drips from my cheeks
I streak
with the chill of winter
creaking in my bones

I'm alone
and the music feels my pain
each note played
rescuing insanity
echoing throughout the brain
still aching
will there ever be peace again
Written by JusTim_
Published
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