A Place To Rest
The men of clay, mouths dehisce wide
Voicelessly pass
Arms at their sides; feet stiffly tight
Perception dull
No meager light softens their skull
Inside my head their voices scream
Nightmarish dream
The words conveyed I try to hide
Menacing threats infuse my ears
Two bare knees
Oblivion, morass of grey
Lethe embraces. Here I will stay.
***
May 22, 2017
Copyright © Darren White
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