for a friend, w.c.
like a windmill trapped under the tides
you're getting weary of walking
through this mobieus strip
of memory, a haunted past
a cigarette burns
on the edge of the window sill
nobody should shed fiery red tears
bloodied, only to fade into grey
as the night washes them away
the circumstances when she appeared
without a trace, yet vanishes
by knotting your convulsed heart further
friends turn into conspirers in an instance
possessed and exorcised by ignorance
the scent of a withered flower fades
yet out of its carcass, another season blooms
there are no chains on your feet
but you can’t say the same
for the bitterness caged within
wake up!
show some respect for the ghosts
that are screwing up your life
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