Lost, Caught, Tossed, Bruised.

Lost like a butterfly swarming with bees or a silvery birch in a row of pine trees a star which fell headlong into the sea to light up dark ships and their sunken debris Caught like an afterthought while you were crying a bird with his wings clipped while he was flying the look in your eyes when you've just been caught lying shaking your head with integrity dying Tossed like a record or a scratchy 8-track with my plastic all scuffed and my labels peeled back replaced by blank tapes in a shrink wrapped 6 pack to be tossed by the compact disc era attack Bruised like the perfect peach left in the sun or the knowledge I have that I'm never the one A soul injury which has quickly spit spun into losing the war as the battle's begun...