“Excuses” by Alan Blenkhorn

Drops of my soul on every page

Looking from inside an invisible anti-psychotic cage

Dreams now, of what may never be

We’re just going to die anyways

Drifting on a habit boat

That never set a float

Efforts to avoid the drizzle

Reminds me I’m miserable

A bother in the rain

Fog gets me the same

I try to care

But I’m moving into nowhere

Images to mind

Distract my climb

My mind grows tough with this

Another miracle to unfinished

No longer will to fight this

Keen on every sound around

My head pushed down and grounds

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