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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Death · #2199735
Cut a long life short.
Where the road forks in twain,
Tread an unbeaten third path.
A dozen humming tidal islands
Marvel at the seventh gathering.

Where the sprawling branches upon
This ageless tree of all life
Dry and wither and fall to the ground,
The roots of the mountain rekindle.

Broken barrel binders, oaken willow welders.
Fret I shan’t. Feel I can’t. Free I chant.
Raging remnants revel in riling realities.

Slay the decadent and the unfaithful,
So that I might, at last, be at peace.
The unloved, the scorned and the ugly;
These roles I have played with ease.

Suspirian silence, chaos characterized.
Light bringer. Night singer. Fight winner.
Raging remnants revel in riling realities.

Not even from childhood relieved
With innocence post-haste deceased
I have carried these scars and fears
For some twenty-odd sickening years.

God willing, or whoever sees;
May twenty-seven mark my release.
© Copyright 2019 J.J. Netzach (jjnetzach at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2199735