my life is but a palindrome
it was something i chose, though never wanted
such a delicate line between hallowed and haunted
i woke in the night with an ache in my bones
my marrow was bubbling and burning it seemed
as i tossed and i turned all alone in my sheets
a cage for the ghost that resides in my flesh
down deeper and hidden where no one can find
as i buried the burden i attempted to rest
but a devil sat laughing in the lofts of my mind
an echo of nothing, a possession so wild
with the fevers of hell i was sure to be dammed
but an echo of something, like the voice of a child
whispered the phrase, "you can always go back..."
in the tangible black i lay in my room
while a galaxy glittered, hung high in the dark
i wondered why i trade sunlight for star
so I wrestled with sheets, & with god, & with stone
and the quick fleeting feeling i am never alone
i pray my life, to be a palindrome
© Mike Mortensen