Here potions do what make-up’s brush cannot,
Lending sparkles to such grey morning light.
With bleary eyes, we stumble without thought
In through the doors, escaping weary night.
Soft peddlers of long accepted sin
Relieve our aching symptoms of withdrawal;
Brewing black magic, served in paper thin.
Our own delights created at a call?
We learn to ask for what we want so late
Leading a life so limited by forms;
For menu boards; which specify our fate,
Draw smoothly in and limit us to norms.
So do not fear to step beyond today
Let heart decide and live this life your way.

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Author: agw

Amateur poet and writer who aspires to write more...

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