102 – Scramble

Too late.
No matter how fast,
It’s always too late.

Running around
In circles.
Your own shadow.

So many promises,
Calling out your name
From the sharp rocks
Near the shore.

You try to hold
A steady course in life,
But dreams can often turn
To nightmares.

Riding alone
At the edge of dawn,
You glide past debris
Of previous shipwrecks.

It could be you,
And you wouldn’t even care.
Lost in the chase
Of those sweet voices.

The sirens try to warn you;
“Stay back,
The rocks will crush you.”
But you’re blinded
By their beauty
And never listen.

A closed curve,
Wet pavement,
Might be all it takes.

But you keep riding,
Trusting your luck.
Or merely hoping
Hell doesn’t want you.

Not yet,
At least.

• • •

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