Anthony Cloe Huie

In The Bed Of My Soul
Our social need to be a part of something much greater
than ourselves would see us choosing to lay
with a dead warm body than to sleep alone
We have chosen a seat at the devil’s table
rather than to eat alone
We so long for affection we live in silence
with the pain from the nails driven in our soul
by one of our own
And you can hear the melody of that haunting song,
“time to come home”
Matters not how hard you try your reflection
in the mirror reminds you
“and miles to go before you sleep
You can still hear the voices of those now long gone by
“dry your eyes there is no time to weep”
Mockingly you make light of those who have so easily
sunk their cynicism in your back knee deep
And the river Jordan runs longer than the secrets
you dare not speak
“Oh!” you say, so not deserving so you settle
for the company your keep
But deep down you know it’s a lie
And deeper still you know the truth be told
finally you would exhale and truly fly
but here comes that voice in your head
once again, nurse Ratched,
I am so much better off sleeping with the dead

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