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.

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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…?

    Like

  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.

    Like

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