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Counting Days 'Til Death

Kenneth, loves satire and writings to spotlight others, but he also has an "addiction" so to speak, to dramatic and abstract/prose poetry.

One angel . . .

One angel . . .

Coughing out my heart, all I have keeping you here
Watching the clothing of freedom, sights only to there.
Please, lover of mine, I cry my last plea of darkened plea.
Love me, hate me, hurt me, really, you're gagging me.

Kittens fly, souls running off to die
While we wait, wait, to hear her lie.
You're not fond of me from mountain high.
Tearing the sod off new grave, burning sky.

Hear now their young band's chant of early morn
Stop, look to the north of clustered wind born.
Crawl easy, breathe simply, for me, I'm too worn.

Lace and delicate things, she loved and lost.
Losing the wine, falling to you, oh, thine, oh, thine!
We lay here nothing left but fog and sleet.
One angel, one life, I give it.

Counting days 'til death . . .

Counting days 'til death . . .

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© 2021 Kenneth Avery

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