The Bus

Come late

You missed the earlier bus

Come early

You still missed the later bus



And to the mute silences of night fall

I question myself

Where is this Bus

Why this Bus

What about this Bus

But in the sneaky shadows of lonely lamp

Questions resultless.




If this Bus leaves


But in the comfort of lethal drink

You chase the blowing wind




So, I rush for to catch the Bus

Me and everyone else

Perhaps it gives us self worth

Or the thought that we matter in vast universe

Deep down

I know

I should never have boarded this bus.



Dennis Peters 👌

Author: Dennis Peters

When I was I younger, my mother told me not to do drugs. She said something about addiction and it sounded so distant. I never did drugs, instead, I read and wrote and I still got addicted. Now I am here, and you are here too because we have to be here and there is nothing we can do about it. | ©Dennis Peters.

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