Fleshed Out Sun

Fleshed Out Sun,


Eyes that can find an enemy in anyone.

Lost: kind of like need a star to find a son.


Can I wake to crusty eyes, love despised, true lies?

Realize the real guys look not for the prize.


More words, commas, and jeering cheers,

And surely meters that really matter here.


You give us periods like a bitch so serious,

But near to us, you appear delirious.


Stop, halt, wounds filled with salt,

Nothing is your fault-I doubt.


I doubt.


Your make up is made up of a simple shroud-with you, without.

No wherewithal, gone for five, no one knows you were alive and about…


Or maybe even clever…




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