Before MetaphorsA Poem by apennylateMetal forgedBefore the metaphors and metal forged I sat ignored and lonesome alone and broken Groanin' in an ocean of token defeat rote motions dead feet My feats retreat bleeding dreams and fleeced sheep eaten lacking wheat a sheath for elite meat treats and bleep heaps Driven deeper steeper hear her cry when satellites fly I sit outside and mind my own business but in this bees nest I'm best before checks in reality I'm a liability to the masks of sentimental sentinels brandishing fundamental finality on the mantle of rivalry Sodden grease and I follow she all of me falling free solemn freeze I'm free-falling asleep
© 2024 apennylateAuthor's Note
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