All Wrong
The world is horrible - it’s all wrong
It is corrupt, and done
It is utterly eaten away from the inside
It is sterilized by shit
It is wiped clean of all that is good
Upon the Shore
Upon the shore, I stand and wait
A mast, a lighthouse
In the nook of the cape
And the wind whips my dress
It batters and beats
Its paltry attacks
Chapter 12
Do you see the portent
in the heavens?
Can you hear the woman
as she cries?
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