The home is the end,
& I’ve been told of a sight similar,
In greens & lushes of familiar smell,
I live & I simmer...
The frail are new & are now the sprouts,
The hurt flutter’s a sound & so does the waged bout.
I wriggled out of a world I knew of once,
The sounds & its tinkers still spells me bound...
Lead me astray, the deeds,
History & in its boring tales,
The real page turner was the last gyrate...
Over & again in a beginning,
The hurt of a moment that had me changed,
Still plays-acts along like a child...
Given up-the long lost pieces & haunts its pomp’s,
Aha! Here is where I skipped a tale & a narrate..
Was I then dead! The pain in me has me still around!
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