A comfortable hole

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

Content in my hovel... Written 7/14

No paths no trail

No hills to climb

Simplicity as far as the lazy eyes could see.

Next time...

I'll look harder next time.


Picking the lint off my favorite sweater.

As I pull this carriage again

The mudslide seems to be the common trend. 

Throwing a fit.

Waiting for this mud to turn to rock

So I have a place to sit.


Clutching the pristine rifle 

Pin these medals on the battle harden coward.

Struggling, balancing on this slippery saddle 


Knocked on my ass again.

Never can predict which way the wind will blow 

Can never make a foot print in the snow 

Apathy becomes so empowered 


Things seem so much easier from far away

Trembling, I'll turn back into the grey.

I'll just go home...


Not a single dream chased

Not one battle faced 

I love how that smells

But too afraid to taste..


I want to be something so bad

It's under my skin

The dreams of it make me grin.

Only skin deep...

nothing's strong enough within...

Submitted: November 26, 2014

© Copyright 2021 Burlone. All rights reserved.

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