Riddles and LiesMature

Blood: yours and mine

drowned-out war cries

dance through the air; above, around.

An intangible fabric of pain; tangling

binding my spirit to it’s sound.

Aware: acutely and perfectedly

senses burned back to life;

unexpectedly.

A brightness whiter than a wormhole’s eyes;

swallowing my body, licking up the slavery from my mind.

Envelopment: wrapped tightly;

in the chaotic static, nothing’s automatic;

handed to you, nice and politely.

Movement: an evolution beyond my own DNA

bet you’d choke on your tongue if you saw me this way;

maybe you will after all, someday…

make a choking sound that will resonate;

across the soil of the places you’ve spilled your hate.

I can keep going past the side-show now;

I’ll swim on by,

I’ll fly right on by;

no nets attached to my broken, battered wings;

old rusted hooks

removed from my nooks;

scars are so beautiful, compared to those things.

The End

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