They’re trying to hide in the weather,
Behind warm mists and bitter frosts
And rain on the lens of my glasses.
They’re trying to hide under my fingernails,
And walls of stressed, red brick
Decorated with black and blue shadows.
They’re trying to hide behind my eyelids,
Locked and sealed up tight,
Doors to a world I’m too afraid to open.
Question from Michael Clark from Facebook
Mxcellany - Poetry, Music, Art 