Saturday, January 2, 2016

Two black moles and a quiet smile,
Fading into a black hole and an endless drift,
We call home.
They say the endless maze leaves clues,
Doors no one cares to find,
Leading into a dark tunnel of memories,
Before you go blind.
Here time play tricks,
A slow slide show of last withering breaths.
Fight it, never commit.
You stand at a distance,
Waiting for the night,
Before you bury it under the stone,
Slipping a fragment of yourself like a seed into the mud.

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