Away from the hanging mist
of a confused may evening
The dripping blades strewn across a meadow bank
An insufferable sickening heat
from a glaring sun above that won't last the day;
Clouds rolling in from the east.

Away from the bloodied stems of the few remaining roses
in the garden, battered by the howling wind.
No desire to spend second by second watching out upon
nature's gruesome hold at the scruff of life's neck.

Away from the breath of air so harsh and crisp,
like thistles in the throat when the eyes fall on flowers
bordered by impenetrable stone walls.

Taught by above that this is so wrong,
demanded by today that such is ok.
Confused at the question of whom to believe
and lost at the desire of what cannot be.

Away from such nonsense that this time evokes
Wishing tomorrow was yesterday and that further away.
So adrift in an ocean that once was so small,
with no questions no conflicts other than a simple life's tolls.
Away from this evening so wretched and vile.
Back to a time when a laugh seemed worthwhile.

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