Once more
A hit, a miss
A wound, no blood
Only a pain that lasts
A mirror span of time
They have feathers
Or are they worms
Sure they skip
Dry eyes and molten ears
Who knows their time
Dancing in tunnels
We hear throat full of curses
Yet we proceed in columns
Who owns my mistakes
That grows outbound
No more sparks
Just a kite let loose
It may sink in winters
When left hovering in your eyes
Head upside down
An innocence laid to rest
Only left alone
Is a cynical wanderer
Yoke of this question
May not perish
With answers of prophecy
Better hide than prey
As there are no children of angels
Whether time is best
To reap my horrors
To steal my sickness
To sell my pathways
To stich my clouds
I ask you to be awake
As and when I walk
In the garden where
We soiled ourselves
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