Patterns

I told you this,I told you that;
Everything turns and turns,
And it grows.

Into endless darkness we spiral,and curl a cruel coil;
We tremble in one another’s win,and defeat.
Growing larger.

We spit,and spat.
Over this. Over that. More.

Nothing is new, and nothing remains old; except the lies I seemingly told. And more.

Give me the “green grass”, with a hint of “cloud with a silver lining”;
Because the sun does not shine here anymore.
Or any less.

I shall be washed clean with a new spring,
A new season,
And a new rain.
And more.

So,keep your wits about you!
Go! Cause your hurt and your pain!
And carry on while you still think you have much to gain.
And less.

Unless all is resolved,
It will remain the same damn thing.
And more.

© Marshana Green 2015

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