A World Astray

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Written January 8, 2019 


Forlorn as a shoehorn

I mourn.

Not just for myself,

But for the scorned.

Torn apart

By this dying world.

Foreign at heart,

Astray in a whirl.

Born from hearts

That we adorn when they depart.

Pouring the generational waters

Of life's art.

Touring the universe

In astral parts.


I remain solemn

As frigid as Autumn.

The nuclear winter at ground zero,

Rock bottom.

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