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Fumbling, stumbling,
round in the dead of night.
Combating, igniting,
flames from a spark.
Blinded, reminded,
of the concern inside.
Turning, craving,
for a spot to cover.
Soaking, choking,
struggling to breathe.
Hiding, abiding,
my ghost will not go away.
Chasing, racing,
I stagger away.
Breathless, stressed
within the mud I lay.
Dreaming, gleaming,
I escape the previous.
Successful, new starting,
I’m free finally.
By Lee W. Barker
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