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Smoke

By Wil C. Fry, Oct. 2, 1999, 22:40 (Saturday)

Copyright © 1999 by Wil C. Fry. All rights reserved.


The wisp of smoky film that was your life
Has floated away
And drowned
There are no lights and there are no signs
There is only smoke
The haze that was your determination
The haze that was your promise
Your plan, your goal, your hope, your dream, your ideal
It is only an empty bottle floating down the stream
Out into the salty sea
And culmination exists only in dreams
Hearing voices, feeling the touch of a ghost
It is not fear
It is resignation
And lazy indignation
Knowing that you’re better than this
And singing a dirge for your happiness
The choices you wear like a ring upon your finger
Or a tumor on your brain
Hungry achings and thirsty throbbings
That don’t go away
Another chance is another dead end
For you
Another choice is another sin
For you
And so it’s all over now



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