what becomes

I've been victim of a fever.

Denied of dreams

though my eyes awaken well rested, still.

Kissed to sleep by death

seduced by the hoarsness of her lullaby.

I'm scattered there in the leaves.

Every piece of me auburn like the rest.

Sparing pity from the men who grin as I do,

fermenting within a cask

or the promise of a life worth living.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/9ch8e4/a_time/e5asdcu?utm_source=reddit-android

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/9chgcm/the_good_of_my_family/e5asb1r?utm_source=reddit-android