In pain; then, the Dream
Was to “Born Once Again”.
Now, to try is vain, when,
– There’s no more Dream.

Loneliness is this crowd.
Meaningless is the found.
It sips in a solo darkness,
As everybody else sleeps.

Alive, but in deep conflict;
W/ the emotional instinct.
And not even in my prison,
I cannot afford my reason.

I’m too used to hurt, and
To qualm as improvement.
I’m happy to smile, while
The Clown cries in lament.


— Ricardo Sexton


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    Liked by 2 people


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