Pouring In

By
Look outside as midnight pours on in,
Splashing into his skin and long dried tears.
Like death he waits in the shadows until souls are drawn,
Déjà Vu of a feeling like all else alone.
And the feelings never die when you’re taught ‘never cry,’
In the dark of the room where he does now loom.
But it’s not the dark, in which he sleeps,
It’s the dreams for which he weeps.





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