8 hours a night

Michaelpoet

As I stare at the night sky my mind wanders to a place I dare not go during waking hours.

I lied to the moon for a moments satisfaction that I will not experience again.

Death is having to live in a state of lucidity without reprieve from the horrors I have known.

As I serenade the angels of my better nature with a song of apathy which has no lyrics I am comforted by a truth known only to the universe.

Perchance to dream is the fulfillment of a misery of a thousand cries to the heavens at that most holy hour. 

My only sorrow is that it will last a mere 8 hours.

  • Author: Michaelpoet (Offline Offline)
  • Published: September 18th, 2023 18:55
  • Category: Surrealist
  • Views: 10
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Comments +

Comments3

  • BlessedbyGod

    Great job michael

  • seventeen

    “As I serenade the angels of my better nature with a song of apathy which has no lyrics“ absolutely beautiful

  • AuburnScribbler

    Masterfully written here Michaelpoet.

    The imagery within, both scars and heals, and repeats such a function, as the poem progresses.

    This brutal intermittent contrast, is something that I enjoyed very much.

    Bravo and I hope that all is well.



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