A Poem for One in the Morning

Abandoned by my cigarette.

My only friend burnt through my hand,

And I can’t see who’s at fault

And if nothing’s real then nothing’s lost.

Lonely night tomorrow wakes

Broken deliriums I fail to shake.

The thought of you

The thought of me

To think for nothing

Think to be.

A knife through the pages

Bought from the start

For vain and vicious

Is the art.

To all I’ve known,

I knew you not.

If you burn the traces

It’s forever gone

To a world of peace

To pick the thought

Of peaceful pieces

Of what was not.

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