Three three three
Three , three times
But the forth is there as well
Sometimes we can't see it, but rather feel it
The dark is at the edge of the bed
Moving slowly
Up through the threads of my sheets
Deviating from the old plan
Devouring the dreams that I would have
Leaving me it's tiring story
Rotting away my soul
Leaving nothing but a shell behind
Murdering that which shouldn't die
Yet it has
Foul play is involved for they do not want this to happen to someone like me
They need it fail
But they tried on the third
The third time they were impeded
The conspiracy imploded and left them in ruin
For this time, it was them who have been attacked by the dark
The third stopped them
But they did not live long enough to regret it
Forevermore is the present
We are here now
Third three tres
Tre three third
The man who runs with the herd is the easiest to forget, the man who runs at its own pace is left behind. In the end they both die. But the man who left the herd? His name never dies. Third three tres.
3:33
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Two Five Nine
ПоэзияA collection of poems , all written at midnight during the Covid-19 Pandemic. Streams of consciousness, ranging from all ends of the emotional spectrum.
