Sleep, finally forgot this insanely divided soul. Has the heart of a clown, on a short fuse, bound to blow any moment from now.
Somehow this apirition I have been seeing, appears by my coatrack. Always wearing a hat, It looked down on me as I slept the night away. The stout colored soul seems somewhat twisted & tongue tied, he is void of breath, imprisoned in this lonely hall.
Isolating alone, in fear of being believed. The sun falls short of casting light on to the wall, right where the apparition should fall. Its left lost, smoke adorns the halway, now littered with a need to believe, this man is a man who can bleed.
This, former man, the soul intent on hunting the hallway. Once lived by a simple roll of the dice, but now in this house, he joins the rest of men broken and bent.
As a single tear rolls down his cheek, how could he seem such a freak? Never believed he could have been so bleak, as to make the world turn the other cheek.
Take from this soul of a clown, the inability to drown underwater, by granting me the gift of breath. So I may be able to sit at rest, by the rivers edge, no fear of sinking. Because believing in what I choose was always cause for my very muse.
I want it set in stone, the story of this former soul. So it leaves no reason to be re-written. This fictitious imagination of mine, it never allows the time to sleep, these feelings will always repeat.
©thegizz211
T