Black

Black becomes descending dark.
Dark that refuses to see logic
Or clear thought.
I have lost my anchor,
My little wardrobe of suits
No longer fit my desires,
No longer fit my hopes.
Hopes?
Confusion, desperation,
Longings,
Disappointments..
I saw, such gentleness,
I compared,
Perhaps the worst choice,
Now I am left with longings
That I cannot relate to reality.
Oh my, oh me,
What a joyful place to be.....



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