haunted, the wisps of smoke called memory
dance around in my mind
there is, a chill of remembrance
and sometimes even that is kind

in, the forest I call life
whispers in pianissimo decibels
fall upon my ears
a clouded noise in an overcast heart

haunted, I wish for the wind
to blow these smoke clouds from me
in my, frozen state I wonder
where, and when it will disappear

in a padded cell I awake
the bars of iron on my window
keeps me from flight
my wounded wings hinder my escape

(c) 2016 allen simpson
inspired by Silent Hill

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