The Midnight Hours. III.

The midnight hours call to me.
Beguiling enticements drifting saccharine and feather soft on the breeze.
Lilting lullabies for the dreamers wandering lost,
melodic, tempting, treacherous.
Enveloping me in the invincibility of a landscape tinted grey.
Shades of moral ambiguity.
I am a fateless gypsy dancing with wolves,
recklessly twirling beyond the grasping reach
of my own humanity and I wonder
If I too
can spin fast enough

to escape.

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