Deprived, into believing
a shield carries
your discolored palette.
Sunlight reins in
small specks of hope,
telling you to drop
what you’re holding out.
It is your effort
to beg
for what refuses to be
up front with you,
to perceive your flaws
for you.
No one should
stand your ground
for you,
while you weigh down
their strength,
even as a ghost.
It’s another crime
for you to want them
to do your time.
They’ll fade
into your scenery
where nothing lasts.
Quenched with the honesty
of a single truth,
you could reach Heaven
with just your arms.
You could walk the patterns
you’ve dreamed about,
stretching this thin arrangement
from a sudden epiphany.
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