I was awoken by the need to write this poem. Destiny or something.
Drips drop in the sink,
Ticks tock in the clock,
Yet the loudest thing I hear are my thoughts.
Reflections create faces,
Empty objects in open spaces,
Why now is my imagination caught?
Ghosts weave in and out rooms,
Breaking memories from angry tombs,
Forgotten lessons I thought I’d been taught.
Things said and done awake,
To souls I love or hate,
Tell me it’s time to let go.
The angel whispers wisdom,
While the demon tweets out poision,
Sowing seeds I don’t really understand.
Pen in hand,
Thoughts falling through like sand,
I quickly write the first thing that comes to mind:
“Revenges not avenged
Have left other projects imcomplete,
Don’t let that be your legacy.”
Slumber won’t seduce me,
Yet dawn doesn’t enthuse me,
I’m left with the ultimatium before me.
Act now, before it’s too late.