Thousand Shards of Glass
A grey area through which we trudge
A thousand arcing shards
Sol, dust on the rift of illumination
A thousand cut-throat shards
Forever lead astray by the light
The boundaries of truth
Oh so tyrannical
Uncontested
.
..
...
Tick, tick
The bell to resound
The fangs to arch in
For a rogue shard could ne'er defy
Copyright © Michael Whatley | Year Posted 2015
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