Morning Came Too Quickly

Poem By dino evans

Alone again, except for her, and a light that shines on me...
Everything is black beyond, the light too dim to see...
So all there is to do is think, and so I do, regress...
Into a place I've lost or I haven't found, I guess...

Night time lets the lonesome one, into his lonesome ways...
Writing words I've written to no one, to sooth my days...
The days are slow in coming, but the coffee sees to that...
Black, just as this room, that surrounds me at my back...

One night turns into two, and so the counting goes...
How many nights my mind has wandered to this, no one knows...
I sit and wait for answers to the questions I have asked...
But the morning comes to quickly, and the daylight leaves too fast...

All is as it was, and will be, never broken...
I pay my toll to loneliness, with sadness' heavy token...
Through turnstiles into nothingness, I pass beyond the gate...
It seems the train to hope has gone for me, I'm much too late...

And far into the distance, I can hear sweet voices call...
No direction, just reflection, for the darkness covers all...
What chance do I have now, to know what's left my mind..
What chance did I ever have, slim or none, I find...

The artificial light that illuminates this page...
Eventually will burn itself out, fading with the age...
And I myself may pass before the light no longer shines...
Sitting in this chair, with pen and paper, I'll recline...

Though I assume the day will come for all of us, you know...
When darkness overwhelms the life, the love you try to show...
Being all alone is not the worst place I have found...
By myself, into my thoughts, and listening for the sound...

The sound of something different, that may come and visit here...
Of someone talking, for now I have a ringing in my ears...
The silence much too loud, for me to notice sound, and thus...
The darkness once again too bright, my eyes cannot adjust...

Adjust to this, my fate, to sit here through the night...
React to pain, and pleasure, I don't know which one feels right...
The feelings run together, with no telling them apart...
I don't know where this night will end, or when it got it's start...

My pen, it travels on it's own, along these lines it seems...
As though I'm writing all my thoughts inside of all my dreams...
Too many to remember, but too few to help me out...
Out of places filled with nothing, hopelessness, and doubt...

But I suppose the ink will run, and smudge across the pages...
Ruining all that I have felt, so lost within the ages...
And so I too, shall I be gone, forever lost to you? ...
But what's a man like me, expect these things to do...

They'll come to nights of all alone, and she will say to me...
You've lost the things you thought you had, so let your love go free...
It never really lived for you, inside this darkened room...
Where morning came too quickly, and the light left you too soon...

dean evans 10-02-08

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