a whispered tune of the lonely tree
a balm on the wounds of the morrow
the moral blinds of all my tomorrows
a single thread of white shame.
of black sorrow and seclusion.
a blistering pain at the pit of my vision
crooked fingers and unbent backs.
the hardy labour of a sunny day
big brown packets and lonely tears
a calm threat knocking at the winds of my door..
and the eternal query...
"does it matter?"
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