Lead
Like no feathers
Anchors dropping like clouds on Hiroshima
The brilliant blue whimpers to crimson
In the hue of this
Frozen cry.

The bones shake
An odd percussion
The pale child with holes in her heart
Stares vacantly into this holy space,
This holy place of soulless good intentions.

My eyes are grey windows to nothing
My vision frail & failing
This raft of blank terror
Drifts
Without weight.
 

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