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Brain Damage

by Jersey D Gibson

Sign of the times, breath is haltin',
sowing seeds left best forgotten.
Strangers glances, tempers fray,
Boots must tred yet here I stay.

Grumblings of memories,
hauntings of catastrophies.
Breaking bones back into place,
the mirrored image stares me in the face.

Hollow hills left for the dead,
shallow graves with tombstones read.
Suffering from the final cut,
left for dead, or maybe just forgotten stuff.

Stamp, sealed, delivered, my death notice,
cut to ribbons by my focus.
Simply put, I'm out of time,
a running start stepping over the line.

08/02/2008

Posted on 08/01/2008
Copyright © 2024 Jersey D Gibson

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 08/02/08 at 03:10 AM

Grim, compelling, haunting. Well done.

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