the same mess

a bright light
  could      b  re ak
 the     line of someones   sight;
 likewise,           the darkness
could create the same mes
                                        s
          abird could  call me ,
and i'd feel   the same,
           repossessing  that same  thought,
from   a    childhood day
   my   imagination   has built up for       me
          days  of    grim  stories

compiled into
               one
         evening

                                             that's why
                                              i'm not
                                                   sle
                                                      ep
                                                             ing

© 2010 The Still Air