Poem – “A Piece of the Grave” – Modern Romanticism – 1/7/2022

Hands to the eyes.
to the tragedy forwarded with lights.
We are blinded while crying
for no shoulder to stop us.

Collision is inevitable.
Winter is inconceivable
for what will be written
in snow
or ashes.

White-out in the debris.
We will not stop.
The brakes never work
when hearts do not even yield.

We were produced
from thin air.
We will remain damaged on the highway
with water,
not tears
to clean away the contents
of our hearts.

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