Free Standing Monuments

The wasted breathes are

less than what I’d hoped,

Mantic depression, do you

feel a loss, or connection?

We’ve run this gauntlet,

And we’ve come out strong,

A somatic dream,

A lack of digression.

Wind chimes are alive

on the balcony,

A siren song calling;

I’m due home to feed my

perverse edict,

Blanket terms be damned.

How were we to feel,

With no sense of direction?

A promise to kill,

And no epershand

could save this from

the obscure tribulations

of a Silver-Eyed Girl.

Don’t make this easy, please,

I expect contention,

And if you can’t see straight,

Well, the arrow, still nocked,

Will find some other to play dead.

The End

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