Lost


We are all fools, sometime or another
whispers vain haunts beckoning to the lost girl who skulks inside
longing for love like an opium eater craving its daily dose of poison
It conjeals as a covetous buzz in the veins
notching up by infinite degrees
And if pain were colors
then my soul a hymn to autumn
coiling,raging shades of shame,truculence and defiant lonliness
as hope lies peacefully as a child tired after a long day in the sun
Why cavil at the obscure path chosen
for tomorrow awaits,
howling outside for my blood
~willis

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