Day turns into the corners of my mind,
Tuning to the whispers of its underground.
A tramp was I.
Passing lit corners untouched.
Meeting roads ending
Caverns closed to every crevice
Shutting every door
Against the echo of a flight.
Is loving illusion a flight?

Swooping through every moment of time’s passing,
Etched in the mind’s marble,
Merging its presence in black
Absorbed in dark
Are trapped embers
Of all those dead hours
Savaged to death, ripping its existence
Life lay in still coffins.

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