Don't stand in front of me
With empty hearts and reasoning
Of dried out joints
With eyes painted on and
Measure man in feeble quantities
And degrees of utter senselessness
From ages gone you stored up for me
Broken bones and misery
A silent, shameful sword ready to slide
Secretly into me
I handed over plans, solutions, inventions
Into your slowly closing fist
Your celebrations expressed in
Casual destructions
Chilled, broken what peace would come?
The peace of a bird
Under the whispering leaves of her breath.
Life cornered, detained
In constant company with
Fear of loss.
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