Challenge
100 words or less on addictions and/or crutches.
I Nightcrawler
It’s the vacant streets, the hurried feet
Street lights polish quiet terror.
Like beacons I crowd under.
The closest thing to sanity I have
Black water roots like fingers,
Across a mired mind
Uncertainty sewn on swollen feet
Misery with no company,
Pacing endlessly
If everything we see is light?
Oh my shadow,
Why you haunt me at night?
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