Battles Into The Night

Burdens of innuendo,
soil all that is clean,
in the fabric that is us
together we’ve seen.

Spoiled is a spirit that
already has all that it
can bear a spite in air
I possess I will admit.

Bitter looks across all
rooms of happy homes
are in bitter conflict it’s
what we don’t condone. 

What are you looking
at while you now stare
at my head behind me;
I don’t know you there.

The strains of a thread
through a needle that
has hemmed all our sky
into night I try combat.

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