deepundergroundpoetry.com

the fear

 
 
the weather
is turning
and my debt
to sleep
lays in
large piles,
the 3rd is
only around
the corner
and
i'm lucky
to have made
it this far,
to sit
here
writing
all these
broken
parts
in a.m
hours
with a
bayonet
tongue
made of
flowers
and
resilience  
like
barbed
wire,
to live
through
hell
leaving
with scars
to go
with it,
doing
the time
some gods
never got
the chance
to serve,
to talk  
of the fear
many gods
faced &
didn't  
make it  
out  
of.
Written by _feral
Published
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