Softly 

A somber scream pushes across the damp grass, reflected in the pale night resembling a child contemplating everything under the moon. 
After years form they see that somber scream bounce back across the grass, dried up from the feet of many travelers who do the same.

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A list

Out windows I remember
joy stirred, sights from suns
my stars rested at night
Far from their here.

days pivot on eggshells

justify my backslides 
with learning curves

and hidden words form 

lumps in throat.
Tomorrow may be over the sun

tomorrow has no new debt to pay,

uncertainties rest easy this morning.

Sliding doors

Where holes sealed history andFutures might be sliced soon

Between self preservation and

Turning cheeks.
This is where we meet to ask 

Questions, and often pray for 

Forgiveness for wanting to be as they are, impulses in transit.
Too many happenings lately.

6:00 PM draped fear over my 

Blue colored room where words tilt it 360 degrees. 
And I think im beginning to buy every bit of them. 

So tomorrow I just may go out to buy one too.

Just for self preservation of course.

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Visions diluted from the struggle of coping with the now and all the questions that come with it. Are these dreams or mere instances of destiny that we would rather be blind to, is finding self an imaginary game we made up to keep the mind occupied?

We sleep then awake to skeletons we try to escape, and this window brings us closer to truth than we wanted to be. Don’t we remember when we were the hope,
Has that faded  along with youthful potential?

Only if we stay at this window and let it drown us in our regrets and its memories of such.