I have written pains and nights
long upon the hours of quietness
and they did not satisfy me
nor did they relieve me
and in those moments I remember
the deep dark as I was in a storm cloud
with the lightning igniting
my flesh to wrestle and to squirm
in a day i have enveloped the nights composes
and sung drudgery among the silences;
yet they have lasted
into more and i plummet into
scathing thoughts...
where could ever be the relief
in a space in time when the space is long
and the darkness is all the time that
even the day seems to withhold the sun
the soul cries
with a tiny seeping of light through
the cracked black wall,
there could be
a hope of a sunrise
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