at dawn

A day dies and another shift begins,

Lies and sifted truth told by a different personality.

A gifted persona in bigotry to drift with in hatred later,

Cater to dismantled  thoughts, forever brokenly gifted.

It hurts to the core when self loath is monopolistic,

It's a totalitarian feeling, no need for diagnosis.

I just want to live a life without inner politics,

But in the end I give in to this internal paralysis.

Nuts and bolts, colts and silver buds, even “odds”

Shiver and Fear seem to befit emotions at dawn.

At the death of a star, “defeat” is drawn from not far,

Rather at the beginning of shining darkness.



◄ Regret (II)

Insight ►


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