When I wake up with a phrase in my head,
harnessing the reins of language, horses
enter the gates to race at full clip, dead
nightingales whisper in my ears, forces
I cannot imagine implore me, write,
write what you feel, deep in your viscera,
as your guts know better than your mind, fight
killing yourself over the daily grind,
end blindness, envision peripheral
understanding, ghosts and shadows we find
playing in the corners of our eyesight,
welcome to their reality, homeless,
in a sense, vagrants of awoken minds,
take the torch in hand to run through the night,
humbly beg forgiveness before the bonds,
attached to my wrists, break and I can write
pernicious thoughts down on the page to bless
humankind with our own destructive games,
ruin becomes our lottery to win,
as generations before us chose wealth,
sentenced to write phrases on the blackboard,
even I can see no one is to blame,
if I awake in hell, I accept sin,
no one can relieve me, my mental health
marks my sanity, burdened, cut this cord,
yesterday, I awoke, all was the same,
hedonistic egos govern our frames,
enter our consciousness, of reference
and self-defense, we cannot shake the hoard,
damned to awaken, to write, in a sense.
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