Caz Azimuth Poet Rhyme

amygdala, aorta, and everything else

Blue people around a table—
gloves, nets, gowns, everything is blue.
He was just waiting for a call,
Maybe his life was hung up too?

They removed his glorious crown,
a crown placed on his head his birth.
The cold scalpel moved its way down,
skipping everything from the dirt.

It found something full of the soul,
Almonds! they saw sorrow, cried out.
It was never your fault at all.
It's never wrong to be cowards.

A bird locked in a nested cage,
Cries, cries, cries! The veins cried out blood!
Flowers bloom from a ripped out page,
It never hurts when it's at dawn.

A glance, a touch, a cut to thrive,
All they could see were broken strings,
But they didn't know how to tie.
Maybe they should leave it as is?

Fly high, my innocent white dove.
Stitches close what we could've been,
but for now, please remove your gloves.
The time of death: 4:59.

You can have my corpse and my worms,
Oh but what did you do that for?

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