billfriday.com

fictionary… 8 megapixel artist… bloody awful poet.

Netherworld

netherworld

Days of the week,

or weekend,

the same. 

Shadows in the place of light,

morning and night. 

No noon.

 

Late I wake,

in the waning sun,

not set. 

With afternoon’s first cup,

must wake up. 

Too soon.

 

Adapting to this life,

upside-down. 

Into halogen and pixel,

I shrink,

lacking melanin,

blink. 

Cold moon.

 

Upon words,

a ladder to climb. 

Voices above cry out, 

join our Netherworld escape,

prison break. 

Lifeless womb.

 

Through endless dreams,

or not,

unsure. 

A solitary life of doubt,

must get out. 

In hope assume.

 

© Copyright 2016 William S. Friday

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3 thoughts on “Netherworld

  1. “No moon
    Too soon
    Cold moon
    Lifeless womb
    In hope assume”

    I wonder if you consciously realized what a beautiful secondary poem you had written? 😊

    Liked by 1 person

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