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Chimes at Midnight
By
Shotgun011

Chimes at Midnight

It is the sort of a day that doesn’t seem to give a damn, and usually gives up on itself in disgust, with Summer being over and the skies being low and drained of colour. Seeing the dead or dying leaves hanging like crepe paper over these dirt roads I am walking down, I know these are like the times when the demons come forth and try to lay me low, but in spite of their actions and those who sit and try to judge all I am still alive and hide any form of pain that’s been inflicted and I am still breathing. Still I know I have done so many things wrong and seem to have become a target for those who act a s self-proclaimed saints quick to judge. And I am doing the best I can and will take a stand as I walk down this path, and there are those I won’t let down who have put their trust in me.

Out here on my own and knowing there is no time for games to be played, and finding I need to make things clear, and try once again to be free. Just sick of all those talking with all seeming to be full of sound, and fury and yet all signifies nothing with all they say. And there is no use allowing them to get under my skin and yet occasionally I am struck with sound hard across my face loud enough to try and drive the thoughts from my mind by their words, which causes me to turn and shoot those bullets of fire. Doing what it takes to make my way through each day, knowing there is a chance I may live or die and still I am looking for some kind of sign to shine like the cold steel of a knife and holding onto hope for tomorrow.

Still there are times when I hear the question of; where am I going to, and what am I hoping for? With there being times I haven’t liked what I have seen and life has shown me, with things having slipped through my hands. Knowing too, that the web between my fingers contains all those things I have left behind. Still I wonder if I should believe those lines on my hands, with there being times when all seems strange and when the shadows start to fall like a form of a fatal attraction in the dark. So I’ll head where these roads take me and be free and this is my life and for living it I will pay for it one day as well as reap what I have sown. Passing all those lonely graveyards, tumbled down farms and shacks as I continue on down the line and after having been down for so long the time has come to stand tall. As I roll on and grab all I can, and trying to take it slow and let some of the baggage and collateral damage go, and sometimes dreaming of the last mile home.

Maybe I am the one who is broken and made up of nothing of scars, and wondering if there is anything truly left of me? Traveling so long and so hard and no one knows of the troubles I have had with God, and trying to put my house in order. Knowing where I have been and at times having been there and back again as I felt like I had been running without both feet on the floor and I ain’t running anymore, knowing one day the hands of time will tick no more. After having been shouldering nothing but ifs, and ans, and buts which makes think maybe I have said too much. Carrying my choices and hiding my regrets with the knowledge that old habits die hard, and though it might be hard and painful to smile, but it hides some of the scars.

But still there are those I will defend and till the day I die, and watch their back like some of those watch mine. And wonder if I have touched some and their lives like some have touched me and my life?

Copyright: Timberwolf International LTD. September 2016 –48


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