Monday, June 05, 2017

Lion's Head

Sits atop a window,
Porcelain stained with dirt,
Obsfucated by a young saplings leaves,
Inhabitants alert,

Was your body ever contemplated,
Just left as unfinished,
Perhaps too gruesome to make real'ty,
The world's safety leaving you diminished?

Or is it hiding in the bricks behind,
Flailing for its freedom?
Whatever the hell you are living with,
My commiserations,
It's not deserved,
All you did was get born,
If I could I would save you from this fate,
May the rain wash away all of your scorn.

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