Untitled
We were young,
no accident,
brittle are branches
snapping
of fragility.
They say,
there's blood
in a tree's bark...
And the pain comes,
with chopping
of the wood.
We can't be blamed
for loss of innocence
to the grey swirly
of constant clouds,
watching us
since we were
knee hide,
delivering
fore-boding
nightmares.....
Copyright © Ryan Geoffrey Hayward | Year Posted 2025
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