Thursday, March 3, 2016

Battered cells

Painted alive
or shrine
when I worship it
just to repair
on healing plants
it shall then dine
and milk thistle
and a prayer
of mercy, or two
to pay for
what's past due
is the secret
that lies
that lies
in you

the secret that lies in you
is written in a tinge
when desperation
was impinged
to keep
from becoming
the immensity
makes me cringe ...

The pain
went under recognized
but it had to move
a solidier in disguise
though a butterfly...

Yes a butterfly
with a combat shield
in snow barren fields
without much yield
with fragility concealed ...

but how long could it go on
how long could a bandage last
how long could plaster be cast
with sweat and tears
under the mask ...

and now beneath the shell
lies a frail and battered
bunch of cells
at the mercy
at the gate
this body can
no longer


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