Black Dog
Sometimes mad,
the reigns drag
from clawing hands,
the pounding steed
of a racing mind
now overwhelmed
in clinging sand,
the world an alien land, fearful
neath the smothering ooze,
crying in the darks oppression,
muttering confession to demons
that watch and wait, for
darker times come late.
Copyright © Rick Howarth | Year Posted 2017
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