i was born in a hearse

I was born in a hearse,
I carry my curse,
from midnight to midnight,
searching by lamplight,
for someone to find me,
a hand that can guide me,
through the streets that hide me,
from midnight to midnight.

This entry was posted in anger management, art, dark, poetry, recovery, refugee, stories. Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to i was born in a hearse

  1. ozymandiaz says:

    and your name is Nasfuratu…?


  2. rick mobbs says:

    I found ann rice books on tape at the salvation army store. Not my cup of tea but I guess it brought this little nightmare forward.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s