Time to stop running
It's time for me to face the truth.
Look away from my reflected hate
Forget all the painful loss
Realize that-
Nothing is ever going to work out for me,
But it's the same for most people
So hell,
I might as well try
To live a decent life.

Poppies, wild in a quarry,
Orange, brighter than sun,
Thrusting thoroughly gravel,
Bold as soul crossing sticks
Into ****** pagan heydays,
A crop of colours branding
The loose stipend of stones,
One windy trail-flare shock,
A bulwark of stars, so laden
On landed, maiden shores,
The first batillion breaking,
By mighty petal, prim hands
Fiercly alive atop the lifeless,
Gravely low, defeated soot.

I've lived loyal lies,
And since moving,
They're in storeage,
Under lock.
I've forgotten where,
But if revealed,
I'm not fearful of discovery.
Should someone assemble
My dissemblings,
Parse the pieces
And make a small announcement,
I'd agree.
I chose lies for themes;
Well-motivated intentions,
Yet carefully selected words
To hurt.

Demons bang on firewalls
With lost love.
I am aging in oaken barrels
Bound with rings,
Dried in kilns,
Soaked as silk yarn
And bowed with
Honest lies.

Let's pretend this
fleck of glitter isn't

simply a garish
pink freckle on a

blank canvas,
but an endless sea

bedazzled by a
playful, young mind.