waiting -
a train,
Unsure of the imp
ending arrival.
Taste of freedom:
bittersweet, clings to your soul
As the artificial glow
seeps
through prison walls.
Slate grey, obscures,
rusts your vision.
Your mind numbs to the drip,
drip
of your trust
As it dissolves to mist.
Memories, steel razor blades,
biting like frost;
As you're waiting for a train
Unsure of the imp ending destination.
No comments:
Post a Comment