Archive for September, 2015


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Sleepless in suburbia

4am and I am pounding the streets again,
Young at heart, old of soul,
Knife wounds and bullet holes,
This body sings its own stories,
The cold morning mist echoes with pain,

Do you have to be dying,
To bargain with the dead,
I keep talking to the bones,
But they haven’t answered yet,
I have faced it down, did I pass the test?

© 2015 Peter Anstiss

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