Nine o'clock in the morning
and the dawn is void of birds
or any vague remembrances of birdsong.
Towards the end of November,
all emotions felt cold
like being homeless in the rain.
There have been days
where I wished I was a stranger
waiting for an approaching train,
always trying to escape
a perpetually unhappy brain.
City frozen over and unrelenting pain,
have you ever dreamt you were embraced
by your murderer again?
It's difficult to distinguish
between right and wrong,
daylight and nightfall
when every window into the soul
has been covered over and painted black.
There are passengers at the bus station
returning home from a distant place
and others seeking any destiny
for their memory and history to erase.
Uriah Hamilton's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem ((1) Erase by Uriah Hamilton )
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