I hoped you were Aesop shepherd,
Gentle hand that would free the thorn;
The head full of afterbirth keeps the rational at a distance.
With a keen eye
You would see it is your name between each line
Below and above.
I taught myself Necromancy
Wrestled the dead
Until the thought of you drowned out all her screams.
If fear and anger smashed the looking glass
Leaving the path to Wonderland is forever blocked;
I will teach myself to be happy with your door prize
Slowly suffocating your memory with my pen.
Trading a scream for a whisper,
Putting down a boulder to pick up a stone;
Let the pieces that remain scatter
Like dust in the wind
The unfinished life,
Swept away in the ever-turning breeze.
What is meant to be will never be hindered
The inverse must also true;
What isn’t meant to be can never come to fruition.
Till the ground with the minds eye
Until the broken and barren have grown rich, lush
The new field ready for planting.
Let the night come once more
Bay at the moon until your teeth rattle in your head
Let yourself feel the release deep withing
Dressing you for the inevitable dawn.
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