An ubiquitous fear falls
in the night
as we approach the end
of the answers trite
and coached
For the dark
offers no comfort
at all
nor the so called light
We cower and fall
in this fight
The only way back
seems now forgotten
The birds ate all
our bread crumbs
so rotten
along with our wishes
and the gingerbread homes
are all filled with witches
(October 4th, 2017)
YOU ARE READING
Post Modern Mystic
PoetryPoetry fills a need of the human heart to express through the construction of artistic verse, the things that hide in its depths. This book of poetry is my attempt to reach those places and beyond. See if I do. Let me know if I reach you. This will...
