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Night Mare

The eyeless visionaries with dreams to disseminate 

When malice grips the heart it becomes a dark horse

Sight becomes marred as the dirt kicks up

Steam will exit the equine 

Short bursts of passion spurring forward

Until the marrow too runs dry 

When the sweet delight of high raised cheekbones

Turn to dust and whisper in the wind 

Lightly caressing the absence of a smile 

Tears fall on invisible fingertips 

Guiding them away to clear up the kaleidoscope

Fragmented and hurt 

Experiences and memories 

Clarity and hope fettered 

Praying for a key to the back of our minds

Bring us back to the stable

©️ The Sad Owl

Categories: Uncategorized

Tagged as:

The Sad Owl

I'm just here. Until I'm not.

2 replies

    1. Going into it, it wasn’t my intention but it kind of just did it naturally itself. I love writing and coming to the point where the next line you write is the last without you ever knowing it was going to be. Kind of eerily similar to life.

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