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Bed Head

Before the clouds grow black

They are gray

Before the sun shines, to bask in the moon

With starry eyes and heavy lids

Dreams of what no longer is 

Throbbing in my shoulder

Locking of my knee

Weakness in my wrist

All the injuries of my youth

I can feel the rain before it comes

I am sad before I sleep

I sleep as heavy as the downpour

Calmly when it’s light

Where I am happy in my imagination—

But what of a rainy week?

Where I live in my head

So many hours spent asleep

Living like the dead

© The Sad Owl

Categories: poetry Prose

Tagged as:

The Sad Owl

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

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