deeper stories now

during the night, the world had
ended our comfort level, and when our
easy life finished dying we had
placed far too much trust in the
empty midnights that every house
remembers when waking up to,
some days remind you how much
the night is where you prefer,
on those occasions you ponder the sorrow of
realizations you have never gotten over, confused
instances of a far more innocent year,
evade the crushing desire to
stay far away one you go on vacation,
numbers never have as big an impact as lessons,
organisms of every sort learn instincts;
when will humans learn thier consequences?

About jaybeasley2

a writer, a painter, a poet, a wordsmith
This entry was posted in poem, poems, poetry, Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

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