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A Psalm for Sleep
 
sometimes the shape of your frame
lights up across the room,
in the dark,
and it's obvious you're not there.
maybe it's the shape of the words,
i've read for so long -
the litany of our wholly different,
but entwining and undeniably paralleled,
little, fading stars that are our lives.
i worry all too often.
i regret one hundred fold more.
and i sit in the dark,
singing the same few lines over and over,
reciting the same few verses from poems,
thinking of a time that seemed darker than this,
but was in all reality,
not very high at all and turned out not to be a needle-
just a change of direction,
and a prick that didn't draw blood.
it was a time when i knew who we were,
then a time when i wished what we were,
now a time when i wonder what we will be.
maybe we're the chosen generation,
that chose not to listen,
and i can't help but wonder,
every time we speak,
if this is our swan song.
or maybe we are that song -
a secret, little, softly spoken one,
sang like it was to a baby,
that needed sweet sleep.

By southernblood

© 2017 southernblood (All rights reserved)

 

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This Poem is part of a Challenge: - The NO FRILLS CHALLENGE--read page for complete rules and info (challenge has been closed)


This Poem is part of a Challenge: - The NO FRILLS CHALLENGE--read page for complete rules and info (challenge has been closed)


This Poem is part of a Challenge: - The NO FRILLS CHALLENGE--read page for complete rules and info (challenge has been closed)


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