up by fright

at four a.m.

no place to go

from there,

huddled by self

in tolls of hell

Still dreams of ghosts

live here…

so sit i still

with book in hand

perhaps others words

dulls real,

try in vain

to seek cocoon,


on rolling wheel..

and in this rise

of newborn sun

for hours

peel away,

sit i stilled deep

in statued fear

and dread the light

of day…

About lifeofawillow
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