The haunting in your eyes
Stares deeply in my soul
Can’t disprove all the lies
Or regain its elusive control
A needle tends to go deeper
At least, so it would seem
Than the sickle of the reaper
Who appears after a dream
Can I fly? Are my wings strong?
Floating through the red sky
I should have known all along
Mortal men cannot live or die
I’ll end up in your dreams
Where we’ll live on forever
Nothing is what it seems
And always fades into never
I didn’t have much of a choice
Told you it would end this way
But you never heard my voice
On that cold September day.
A poem by Jason S. Sullivan, 09-29-20
