11 Lines

Midnight, a new day in the middle of darkness
Melancholy, into a vicious void, imprisoned
It doesn’t add up but it’s definitely multiplied
An itch into a scratch into a festering wound into a scar
But underneath it all, rusted, ripe with decay
Gangrene stench; sever the infection, pieces removed
Back to reality, nothing changed, tortured soul
Murdered past, seeking unsuccessfully
Naked in the rain, the all too familiar pain
Unwanted, dislocate, suffocate, annihilate
Liberty lost, the all too precious cost of idleness.

© 2007 Cordell J. Larkin