The sickle swings both ways
Chopping to and fro
Slice and dice the fields for days
That sway where stale winds blow

Transgressions grow like eager wheat
Under a siren’s blazing sun
But are there any mouths to eat?
Are there any feet to run?

Foaming around dry cracked lips
Specks of sand blown into mud
A whimper sails the abyss
Like an unfurling flower bud

The blade cuts deep into the dirt
And rips a tear into the whole
So, at once stands upward invert
The mirrored body and soul

The covers close upon this fold
And pull the furthest edges inward
Pressing stress into the mold
Until it all bursts into splinters


About corkedbottle

Hello hello. I'm a guy that likes to write and is really good at not writing. I've never thought of myself as a good writer, but it's fun, and I'll never get better if I don't write more!
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