The Late Night Count

Broken minds
lay scattered
feeling
like shattered
glass
Splintering
through fingers
Hindering
believers
holding up the thinkers
and propping
Those deceivers
with their
conceit!

All the while sweet lips
Count mutely to 10 and back
Again in time.

Dangling
limply from heights
The not quite rights
Take stock
of lights
And hang
low lights
at night
to frighten
out of sight ideas
And dreams
that shape their plight.

Still the beauty of mouths
Mouthing fails to enter or
Break the pattern.

1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10

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