A lonely peer, a doorway.
Most still lay asleep.
Strangers, cloaked as lovers.
Lineup…for the rabbit hole.
Their smiles, fake, and you know it.
Will, did not lead them here.
All they want is to shower in that devil’s medicine.
Melt and run away.
How can you hold their hand?
Allow their laughter, their play,
to fill an ego until you trick them.
With a lie like the blood is clean.
Writer, Poet, Thinker, Paralegal, Miawpukek First Nations, GymLife, Runner, Bike Writer, & Pun Enthusiast I like my puns intended. ✍️
“I don’t claim to be a great writer, but I’m enjoying the journey of becoming one”
View all posts by Ash Douglas