Staring through the window screen
Shadows swallow day
Twenty-four more empty hours
Life is drained away
Shutting up the house's ears
Fleeing to the mind
But unable to forget
The world left beind
Opening my house's door
Creeping into night
Eager to go out and live
Bring my world some light
Wand'ring through the city streets
Learning what I lack
Promising upon my life
Never to go back
Fleeing from the raging storm
Of truth that seeks to burn
Poor fools who are unprepared
Home I must return
Tracing back my winding path
Again a living ghost
Up ahead the place I know
And now abhore the most
Staring through the window screen
Haunted by the power
Borne by that one memory
Of living but an hour
My poems seem to have been following a dully dismal trend for a while now. Come on, Peter! You were titled Disconcerting for a reason! Where's the death and gore?
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