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Mar 2016
Aftermath




I get up out of the orange chair and go to the window and out I stare
The rain is making the road turn blue down our street across the avenues and I cry
I look across to a single tree and it's blowing furiously all the green and amber leaves all die
I turn to see the fields were I've grown and played then running home I look up to the sky
The feeling of despair comes over me because I'm right back were I started still never free but belong I try
I sit back in my orange chair and close my eyes and fall asleep under drug induced spiral just like a flying kite
So dream once again of what should have been a family with two children playing with a love satisfies
But wake alone in this lonely flat darkness through the windows and the sound of downstairs as my ear only pries
I look through the window and stars I see above the clouds that disappeared from all of the rains lullabies
Tomorrow will be again and again and again oh god I pray for my soul he walks by.
returning
Written by
Peter Kiggin
286
 
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