A whimsical thought arose from this post, would agraphobics fear the future because the future is just an empty space ?
The future ?
The future is an empty space
A precipice afoot
Crashing waves of uncertainty
Resound behind the door
Stars burn down the ebony night
And the sunrise is stillborn
The man in the moon just digs a grave
To bury the dreams of the forlorn
And if you dare to venture far
Count each and every scar
You’ll realise it has no ending
Just repeats what comes before
...repeats what comes before
Poetry by Rik
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Written on 2018-12-02 at 20:51
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