Minced Hope

Cold air misting my cheeks during a pitch black disaster

It’s amazing what you’ll see, find, in a moment when there are no flares available

Beating my knuckles into rock and road while gravel and unseen watchers laugh

Momentarily stripped of drive, desire, any faith in anyone especially self

Flashing between I can do this to what will my last scream be, last message to an unmonitored mailbox

It’s winter, time to bury my dead parts hoping for budding growth yet these withered branches crack while hitting forest floor

I don’t want to move from my bed, why should I, prolonging inevitable failure while being a sedentary failure

Out in my town’s streets bare, waiting for bright headlights to come an untraveled street and ask, is it time to go home

Only replying with a verse, can’t be like this others have it worse, furiously brash mistakes fading out in freezing pitch black confusion.

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