Window sill to the observer

image by bigfootfantasies

we perch on
the dots of yesterday's tears
counter the fears
when courage appears
Esteem crumbles 
as arrows are thrown
an alias self
To the shelf self unknown
Picture perfect
Drapes to cover the
of yesterdays failure 
and yesterdays prize
 Heaven sent
Common sense
to a land where wisdom
has no power
Upon the hour
Pain leaves taste buds sour
We chomp at the bit, 
bored with
the lies
brain tells when we sit
for in the daylight
there are no shadows here
and we light the fuse 
to a wayward oblivion


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