Matthew Bulian Poetry

I fall into this darkness
like a clock
it is always on time
I have grown to yearn for this
strange to grasp
Im a masachist of emotion
Here I stand, it is almost time
I can feel it comming
like the smell of rain
Right before it starts
somethings happens
It makes me weary
I am uneasy
Has it been avoided?
Should I continue to brace?
She has turned on a light
The darkness recedes
there is a wrench in my clock
it is not on time
I am suspended in between emotions
I think she is cure

Poet: Matthew Bulian