No Exit
history teaches us
about the fears of having no exit
i believe it
that somehow there are no exits
but i work upon such premise
what i have now are simply
entrances
though i have no plans to stay
this long
yet i hold on to the assurances
of little permanences
everything passes away
i suppose
what the hell
where is the promised heaven?
i hold on to the grasp of my fingers
my only consolation
there is nobody here anyway
who says he had been there
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Added by Poetry Lover
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