Blindfolded
The hollow listens, a hum echoes
blindfolded, the fright released
taunts spill the night
in apprehension
Dust blows in off the day
a deserted island of despair
Empty, the hands circle back
inner moments of mistake
doubt delivering her blow
then bows out of sight
Left, to ponder, to wonder
why the nails never cry
with all the pounding inside
Copyright © Tim Smith | Year Posted 2017
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