HELIUM OPIUM
Corroded clouds exude narcotic, honeyed sap,
Quelling ancient mayhem in a digital trap.
A quiet ritual, a ballet of bone and steel,
As the mind succumbs to a whispered, lucid deal.
Relics hum in the hollow of the throne,
Nerves collapse in a drug's strange, echoed tone.
A gilded cage, its promises now dust,
I grow my paper-cut wings, born of fragile trust.
Copyright © Jeta Buch | Year Posted 2025
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