Held in broken silence; a breath
A torn tissue left
Blood in channels flowing
Going to the window
That’s showing eloquent features.
Stepping in golden shoes;
In sunlit meadows
On sandy beaches
Reaching the shore
In shallow silver streams
That trickle between the stones
Thrown by angry voices.
Choices in terms of stagnant emotions.
A commotion of broken glass
Drifting to sea
Not to mention the thoughts in question
Cry at a drop in the ocean
At shards of crystal
A fire
A reaction
A faction of reality will no longer return
Burned by fusing sun and light
Exposed to negative reasons
Crisp in tired response we sleep
Until ideas wreck our slumber
Our number is up
The peace is frozen
May 5th 2017
Patrick Turner-Lee
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