Swallowing the Soothe

Nothing is as sure as dying,
As when I was upstream crying
Couldn’t I wait to hold those words? Maybe shift the provocation toward a verse
Verses tell us something of ourselves And we unite in flying
We unite in dying
So that is as true, I will embrace the path
Sewn figures, crutches and catastrophes Dear assertions lifted from a book of the heart Not monuments, but crippled storytelling
As of times when I could only see the comedy dwelling It hurt, you laughed After innate hours of steering the way Lost friendships, a moment of lost aesthetic That lost aesthetic is what gave the punch And I recovered, but the fire burned So I drowned my supposed fiction Of what had happened And tarried along the nuance Of recovering the broken warrior within.


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