Poetry – Hell Of A Day

Running through the morning sun
we fall in line, ready to run
as the gates open they come undone
it’s every man for himself
even when you cry for help,
until you’re the only one left.
No one to save you from the chaos
that you started in your mind— you lost.
By your own doing, the game was tossed
and what did it cost?
The people you loved the most.


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