The Sickness

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic


A short poem I write in response to a post that had no hope left.

Submitted: May 24, 2018

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Submitted: May 24, 2018

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I thought as though I'd seen it all,

This sickness takes many, I've seen them fall,

They turn to me, as if to give them a way,

But no words come out, I don't know what to say.

So I turn my gaze to the moon up the road,

They nod to say thanks, to me they thought owed,

I keep moving forward, to find more lost souls,

The further I go, the burns take their tolls.

But I can push forward, I will, I must,

For they have placed only in me their trust,

So I point to the moon, and tell them to go,

For I know the secret, that they do not know.

Take my hand, through the perilous place,

I can't tell you, but you can see it in my face,

I promise you now, that from this point on,

If you head for the moon, there will be a dawn.


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