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The Hour Glass

Updated on June 27, 2014

Lying in bed with

arms folded behind my head,

I stare at the hour glass.

Marveling its contents in free fall.

Each grain of sand with purpose,

all fumbling just the same.

One lands on top the other,

bare bodies plummeting.

Bullets tumbling,

spilling into loose change.

Bloody rain drops form a puddle

causing my roof to collapse

as the floor boards give way.

Quickly sinking, I cannot stay.

I am falling naked, wasted

by a gun wanting more

than the quarters I clung.

Only to awake soaking wet

drenched in sweat, thinking.

Was it really just a dream?





Copyright ©2011 Daunt'e Loper







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    • poetvix profile image

      poetvix 5 years ago from Gone from Texas but still in the south. Surrounded by God's country.

      This was just totally raw, gritty, fierce even! And then, to find it was all "just a dream". You nailed this one.

    • Daunte Loper profile image
      Author

      Daunte Loper 5 years ago from Detroit Michigan

      Thanks poetvix;) I'm glad you enjoyed it

    • profile image

      PenMePretty 5 years ago from Franklin

      Awesome!

    • Daunte Loper profile image
      Author

      Daunte Loper 5 years ago from Detroit Michigan

      Thank you PMP;)

    • cynamans profile image

      cynamans 2 years ago from Washington DC

      Beautiful poem. Voted up and interesting.

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