Nights of stolen happiness.

The scars of war…
worn in nights of stolen happiness,
heard when sirens bleed,
heart racing,
following traverses undefined.

In sleeplessness I slumber,
and drums beat,
in rhythms of lands trapped in
stories yet to be told, waiting to be born.

How come I run, feet fiercely
rooted in this place where time
stands still?
Hoping for daylight to wake.

Again,
Running, floating and flailing, yet I hear
No one, see none
open the door,
stretched out in beads of salt in dark wake of night!

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s