i heard my night before me,
a tumult yearning for wings.
taints of blood in the sea
sinking in ancient springs
my dreams run in despair
while i see the last steps of the day
in this abyss hidden somewhere
between my pain and decay
a whiskey bottle is my calendar
days of remorse and rage
as i count the stars so far
sleeping in my favourite cage
i heard my night before me
a tumult i need to sedate,
my suicide i need to see
while my rebirth i wait
Karla Bardanza
Drowning the day away in a bottle, to soothe the anger, to live in the cage of ones doing. Then once you have reached oblivion, you have pushed away all that angers and can wake to a new start. Great write.
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