Your hands are trees in the wild.
They hold my weight without excuses.
I have a refuge, I have a pillar.

Not wanting fear, it is unwanted.
Silence is a secret weapon.
Reality is not a dream in the sleep.

Try harder, no one is exempted.
My other chance is thriving.
I’ve summoned my alter ego.

Sliding closer to the pit.
The treasures might be there.
To give up is to exhaust death.

Today, I’ll be greater than my ghosts.
Wandering, finding a soul’s shelter.
Home to self is a lot like love.



About chester maynes

poet, and a lover of music and books.
This entry was posted in Poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

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