Why is it that people look like apparitions in the morning?
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Pale and haunted like the waning moon
Eyes drip, like water from a broken faucet
Dark hollows that reveal the ghosts that have haunted their dreams
Frail, unsure fingertips tremble as they light that first cigarette
consuming cheap coffee with their antidepressants
And later red wine with their painkillers
Winter is the cruellest of all seasons
The old and frail perish, the young cough and splutter
Even the prettiest noses are left red and swollen
like the flickering lights wrapped around the Christmas tree
Children trudge in frozen but euphoric
A pool of slush dripping from their green plastic boots
Beautiful girls with their cracked lips, and starry eyes watch the
Clouds drift across the insensitive moon.
Business men, seem so much older, life to them is black and white
Politics or history?
Whereas children and beautiful girls think of angels and ghosts and the seasons