Dying of the gray death,
gets worse when your red heart
is ripped from your
blue jean sleeve.
All hope of survival,
is lessened quite considerably
when your dreams
become a nightmare.
Temporary solutions,
needed fast so your weary head
can hit a pillow
instead of a concrete slab.
Does life throw you curves,
until you learn there are no promises,
just simple words
to soothe the hopeful heart.
Never believe all that you hear,
half lies, half broken dreams of humanity,
leaving you to believe
you are alone and on your own.
A ray of faithful hope,
lines the grayest of days of spirit
try, just try to believe
your life has some meaning.
Timothy Michael DiVito c2020
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