Heavy Pinions
I feel like a rusty key
that cant open any door
You waylaid my cloudy kingdom
Your butter knife
cut through my land
Through a secret glade
between the hope and dust
I detest what I've become
I painted my dreams
and waited to see
This sloth what I've become
is driven by a hearse
amongst the heavy pinions
Copyright © Antony Glaser | Year Posted 2023
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