Belated Misery


When playing possum with tragedy…a ghost of many tales entangles me.

No use…crying for mercy in this…the pouring rain.

And, yet, I stand in the elements crying…just the same.

The shadows of belated misery…

Always five feet ahead.

Ice droplets slap and cajole.

Promising…’you will sleep incomplete…sell us your soul.’

Complacency curls beneath a broken heart.

Abandoning me of all control.

 

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