How many times
Must one wake to their crimes
In a never ending spiral
Of nightmares made from miles
That always fill the spaces in the mirror.
Waves that crash and carve
Across a mind that’s become starved,
Will leave their liquid marks
In the forests and the parks
That are now the places that you’ve come to fear.
And lo the sun still sets
No matter these regrets,
And paints these plaster memories
With stippled scars made from these
Moments stacked like cairn stones once held dear.
© Brandewulf 2018