out on the edge,
people and places are seldom
what they seem,
lines become blurred,
light but a reflection,
faces come out of the night,
moving beyond darkness and death,
winter winds blow cold,
leaving trails of broken bones,
rising into the emptiness beyond;
out here,
all hope has died;
sitting here,
watching the rain fall,
nowhere left to go,
no more room to run,
the voices slowly fade,
the faces silently disappear,
everything passes with time,
nothing lasts forever,
is truth enough,
or does darkness win?
without love,
are you only
fooling yourself?
nothing is hidden
that will not be revealed,
no debt goes unpaid,
a reckoning
for every word whispered
in the night;
an accounting
for promises made
but never kept.
.
.
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