She will absorb
That lack-luster sheen
Your reflection of life gone stale

Just feeding her storm
That want to incinerate
Everything into gray, charred to ash

Such a destructive twist, it
Spins within her, only
Held in check by its own limits

These strings are so binding
Defiant but defeated, we endure our own microcosmic hell
Digressing into redundancy

Hoping the embers hold enough heat
To draw fresh conclusions
Or at the very least
Comfort from the twist

But it’s temporary
You know
I just can’t live
Without that playful, dark little twist.


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