I walk - an ant along
high street.
The paved row
of concrete
mausoleums,
towering besides,
looming over me.
Thin sheets of glass
show
the massed
walking dead that
walk within
but I don't follow.
I don't want
to join that crowd where they go.
I left my heart
on a seat at the station,
one day in a tear-filled rainfall,
and now I hear it once again call.
I though it broken,
it had been stabbed, dropped, beaten.
Abused beyond all reason,
but I hear feint echoes,
reverberating through
the dim lit wastes of my youth,
and this rain-soaked
hole in my chest
is not much use in truth.
I stride, through puddles
that resemble oceans.
I climb hills with every step,
I feel every muscle,
and the many ways
they have wept
but none of this will stop me.
I'm a man with a cause.
See I left my heart
on a seat at the station
When you left
it tore right out of me,
refused to leave.
So, I walked into that wintery day.
Heartless some would say,
but I knew I needed to find me,
before my heart
could ever truly beat again.
Now my heart calls
once again to me,
and I need to listen
to it's waves lapping
on my beach.
Thanks for reading
Please take a few moments
to check out my new book "Poetic Outlaw"
available from Amazon
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0CVQ5F9K8/
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