MusingsPoetry

How Deep It’ll Be

Oh you forgotten dime
I do not wish or care to know how deep in motion—the knife…
How deep it cuts through your mines
For you keep them—the mines…
Away from the ones who need them like life.
I wish to know when you wail and whine
So I can wine and dine
Oh, you dark mind.

Even when they keep for you.
Awake
And fast for you.
All you give in return is a task yet undone
But.
Only for you.

And how about they?
Blinded with tears—they.
Their hands… wretched from the toil in your farm
And the beauty that parades in your lawn.
All.
For you.

I hope they have thoughts
Thoughts about you like I do
For then, you will have this cut.
How deep it will be.
How long it will rot.

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