There Are No Windmills

Third shift often referred to as the graveyard shift oh the company I keep through these hours covered by shadows.Souls to wander about at night the lost the lonely and then there are those who are guided by voices poured into the head         

Stairwells don’t lie, streets don’t lie pain is real desperation has a fragrance aren’t we all gamblers.

Look just look at what you bow down to. The screams at night speak truth the lights that cover a street like a pallbearer at a funeral speak truth, what pours into you who’s voice are you listening to, Are you walking or are you just dead.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2020

Poem

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment

Be the first to comment on this poem. Encourage this poet.

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace