Every dawn, wishes of a peaceful grace adorn the rusted stills

Of long nights spent in accepting every disagreeable defeat

Erratic outline of teardrops on pages conceal

The carnage from where the pasts meet

 

Awakening from a hazed slumber

Faults and rectitudes try to construe

Yet a single innocent memory enlivens the whole massacre

And hastily all wrongs accrue to me, all correctness to you

 

And then every night again, your thoughts attack with a thousand arrows

And I apparently try to battle

But on the sunsets of the lonely narrows

I again argue how your invasions were justified, and mine indefensible

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