If you could hear my voice
You’d know
That every sentence
Is another line
In another stanza
About the dispersed
Flakes of beauty
In human suffering
For love is the
Past tense of hurt
And past was once present’s
Future,
And despite therapists,
Broken hearted epiphanies
It does get better.
Despite all of the self-inflicted pain
And the fallen heroes
Dying at their own hand
For the future after the split
The spilt blood is human
Is beautiful
It’s a shame, but the eggs
Are spawned and now
It’s time for mom to go.
Destruction is as unknown
As the phoenix from the ashes,
As the future of the plastic
People after the credits roll
