#SoulBitsOnFire, Poetry

Day Three: Midnight

Like clock work you come crawling

Humbled at bended knee

Trying to let the “right one in”

At the hour of midnight

The hand strikes

And like a new day you restart with a new mindAs if this here scarlet never tasted the whip of your tongue

You forget how to run

You forget that at dawn your heart shatters

You break and you die

A victim crying wolf for every one of his moves I reflect

He catches a glance of how him and his mother would dance

But she is who he needs for awhile

Below the mask of a woman with a pretty smile

Deeply buried in her soul is the lesson he refuses to learn

Yet he chooses to keep those strings attached

He can break free at anytime

But here he comes

It’s midnight

Advertisements

Run it...