It stays foggy till sundown.
After then, you don’t know
Whether to stop or get started.
Whether to stay or to go.
It stays quiet till sun-up.
After then, things get misty
And clouded, memories shrouded.
You’re grounded, but hide in shadows.
It’s time to step off this train,
To make conversation again.
Stop pulling punches
And start pushing trolleys.
Under the guard of thick secrets
And under eyes that look deeper.
Fraught with shame.
Buy a name, then sell it.
Triple word score.
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