Hiding Out

A man stands, dazed in the center of a room, staring

At a ceiling fan, watching the blades orbit his vacancy,

No comprehension, of the chaos, right outside his window,

The rushing sound, of whirling wind, surrounds

His absence, as the heightened tension rumbles

Just below the condensation covered filter of the mayhem,

Reaching, for his incognizance in hopes to distress,

The disorder beneath the cloud of ignorance starts it’s climb,

Slithering up the rattled building, as the distance

Closes in, unbeknownst to the severely diluted brain,

For it only took moments, before the havoc scaled

To the top, appeared and swarmed the depressed space,

All while the man stayed in the bliss, of being unaware.

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Hiding

Do you disguise in the crowd of freaks?
Hanging on the limb with the thorns
Begging for you below, dressing your corner.
Do you close the door at the knock of company?
Posing in the shadow of dread,
While they build out your home
Staining the cross you grip so close.