As the day turns into night
The drizzle is ever so slight
The lost gold lives their plight
A doorway a box is my home tonight.
Slowly settling in I dream
A room with a bed I wish for me
A dream, a wish which will never be
The pills, the powder the needle injected at my sleeve
Buries the pain I can’t bear to see
My life this wasn’t supposed to be
This cardboard box is where I’ll be
One more night this will be home for me.
Imagine only, it was you and not me
About the Creator
Rob Urquhart
I say I have a muse because I never know when where something will happen. I just write the words fed into my brain from I don’t know who. Edits are usually only to make the piece 1st person as I write in the 3rd person. Enjoy!
Keep reading
More stories from writers in Poets and other communities.
The Lesions of Devotion
Every day I set myself down on the freshly cut lawn and strip myself bare. I take my guitar and finger the frets and pick at the strings, listening for dissonance. My life is dissonance. I twist the tuning pegs until each string sounds bright. Then I kneel, calves pointing behind me, kneecaps facing forward. All exposed to the breeze. I close my eyes and play the melody.
By Paul Stewartabout 23 hours ago in Fiction
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.