A poem about vices stopping me from doing anything real.
Five deep into twelve by one-thirty.
The night has just begun
Im awake with the moon
But I know its just a phase
Like everything I’ve ever believed in.
What will stick? Im afraid…
My dreams have come back to me.
Its not a nightmare, its a vision
just a world that I thought we could live in.
I abandon my childhood
Whats behind me has no view of the front.
The wolf is not nihilistic, the plot thickens…
He found the pack and they’re out on the hunt
Same old vices to keep me going.
What will stick? Im afraid…
My dreams have come out to play.
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