When The Voice Is Silent (A Offered Prayer)

man sees ghost out windTonight another like any other before or since, anger in confusion by the blood on my hands and the lack of the tightening bands there yesterday, now free to reflect, can’t redirect the past, the leaving is bliss but will it last?

The Silence.

Artless Defiance.

Broken protector alliance.

Begging please no future compliance.

In silence I can see that road, long and high it winds, I can see the scars in my the wake of the past and the way they blind. Escape route hidden by flames of ignorant internal injustice ritual, the whispers muted now, not habitual.

In the silence I can see the end of things I can fix everything, never asking for this but without I drown, who’s the real plaything here?

Grateful ghost town, shhh now, not a sound, block the countdown, no half-crowns, and no errant breakdowns.

And I beg…

Thomas Spychalski





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