While you were plotting their downfall

Someone else was mastering yours.

Proving it will prove tricky as

with gardens in season in the winter

there are no flowers at all.

And how can you grow when

it is so cold that dew freezes

and falls off to the ground.

I speak Gods word and today

that word is strange. Strange rules me.

Where are you hiding? Your pitchfork.

My hay. Eyes in walls. Beyond understanding.

Grand larceny of my thoughts and feelings, of me.

Of you.










Published by Andrew Mark Watkins

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