My troubled soul seeks out the vanished
dreams that once inspired my blood to
flow and my heart to beat.

I only wish to re – find the forgotten
imaginations that have been buried beneath
my hatred and the rush of ambition.

My breath comes slower now that my mind
is clear and I have finally found myself
alone in the night without fears.

The eternal myst obscures clarity even though
on occasion an epiphanous thought peeks
through my clouded visions.

I sit alone in the night under bright
fluorescent, seeking the words and meanings
that have fled from me.

My tired soul worries itself about the many
problems that my burdened mind must
put up with again.

The words, I hope, may flow again with
clarity and wit as inspiration and I
collide like the bullet of a mob hit.





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