Midnight Fights By G.


Blues come in the middle of the night, Approaching fast with no alert, They crawl in bed fusing to my soul, They tend to awaken my melancholy. I refuse to acknowledge them, Yet they shake me alive, Kids throwing a malicious fit, And I battle them alone. Outnumbered and out gunned, I wage a war of attrition, My heart my only weapon of destruction, They slip through my lines stealthily. Great men always come to my aid, Steinbeck, Hemingway, and Upton Sinclair, They wrestle and tussle with my foes, Their words protect me against evil. My restless sleep settles once more, My books dog eared and strewn about, I arise to a mess, Yet awaken with a smile.

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