Running dry

This is like a beating,
a slow punishment
that’s on it’s way,
all the time
and what can I say?

I’m always
the one running in,
eyes closed,
fists clenched
and that stupid smile
leading the way.
I’m waiting for the bridges,
those beautiful things
that link me
with life itself
so I might somehow last
until the next time comes
and I get to see
what happens next.

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About Sean O'Gorman

Spoken Word poet from Ottawa. View all posts by Sean O'Gorman

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