B DEWITT

N / A

A Different Kind of Reality

When night comes,
a darker place calls to me.

It is my light,
my candle,
my way.

Reality shapes and shifts
revealing a path;
a broken boundary.
I follow it blind,
engaging in mental swordplay.

I’ve entered its’ depths
as though they’re all-encompassing.
Alone, except for the voice so bleary.

Sometimes loud.
Sometimes quiet.
Always so insistent.

It lifts me and shakes me;
the road ahead blurry.

Now footing unsure,
then mind insecure;
I am torn away.
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