It's Still Life

A Study In Repetition

I dreamt the world was an indefinite wobble, days became months and years.
I dreamt the world was an indefinite wobble, stinking and broken from within.
I dreamt the world was an indefinite wobble, clouds were chiseled by the wind.
I dreamt the world was an indefinite wobble, while words teased my ears.
I dreamt the world was an indefinite wobble, as I removed a stone in my shoe.
I dreamt the world was an indefinite wobble, and I didn’t know what to do.

I barely noticed the sunburnt hills, while days became months and years.
I barely noticed the deepening night, stinking and broken from within.
I barely noticed the break of day, clouds chiseled by the wind.
I barely noticed the low laughter, while words teased my ears.
I barely noticed the man on the bench, while I removed a stone from my shoe.
I barely noticed my haunted path, and I didn’t know what to do.

There are no secrets in the sunburnt hills, days becoming months and years.
There are no secrets in the deepening night, stinking and broken from within.
There are no secrets in the break of day, clouds chiseled by the wind.
There are no secrets in low laughter, in words that tease my ears.
There are no secrets from the man on the bench, I removed a stone in my shoe.
There are no secrets on my haunted path, and I didn’t know what to do.

I barely noticed the world was an indefinite wobble,
the days becoming months and years.

I dreamt there were no secrets at the break of day –
the world is an indefinite wobble.

 
for a prompt at Miz Q’s on Repetition