The left-hook was broadcast,
From a mile or more away.
But I chose to ignore it,
In fact, I stepped in its way.
Watched it coming slow-motion fast,
Why standing still I couldn’t say.
Proclaimed to abhor it,
Yet still invited its play.
It has a strange, seductive pull,
Enveloping in a comforting pain.
Isolation a perverted confirmation,
Each loss an emotional gain.
Keep it going, you’re on a roll,
Hint to others its increasing stain.
Ignore available information,
Focus on the smallest, softest, warped grain.
But you have to hammer that pinion in,
Because free-fall is a moment away.
Looking down into the warm, dizzy mist,
Feels like a mother’s gentle sway.
Hold fast against pulling you in again,
Into the warmth of the numbing gray.
It’s in you to fight, in you to resist,
For better or worse,
Yours is the only power,
Yours is the only way.
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William Martin's Poems
Here I'll share just some of my poems. Keep a lookout for a book of my poems...available soon on Amazon!