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Jan 2021
the shadows of the fall
they echo down the hall
like jagged little reminders
of a world we kept in blinders

when the one of all is shattered
his head upon a platter
the river stops to rest
in an ocean of ******

and the moon flies wantonly
embarrassed of the bo tree
and the scrolls fall to the floor
in a burning down bookstore
an abstract mess of words that convey an unnamed feeling that haunts the empty chest of a middle-aged human
jordan
Written by
jordan  47/M/the foot of the mountain
(47/M/the foot of the mountain)   
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