Fear

Fear does roam in circle,
granite hard in veins,
calls the ghost of reason,
names the nightmares

reared, on the weight
of sorrows, howl of
deepest grief, packs
the flesh of madness

wrapped in sore relief.
Holding to the table,
empty dreams of hope,
reason drinks in silence,

draughts of time remote.

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About rosross

Editor, writer, poet.
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