Zywa
I was nineteen
No clear translucence
no words ventured
on pure water, but
describe-pictions
sung love lines
mist-lingual truth
wise as unwritten
laws I wanted, I thought
I was nineteen
and didn't know how
but I would
write and sing
of bodies and wounded children's
leaden castles in the air
with harnesses around their open nerves
soul splinters everywhere and hearts
that suffer until they break
on the twinight of their song
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