The Guns of August
August
came like a shot
but now bleeds away from me
a neck wound
i keep pressure on
in the hopes that i won't fade away
before Doc can stitch me up
and get me home...
“I have lost my dewdrops!” Cries the flower to the morning sky that has just lost all its stars... All bleeding stops eventually. I am but a collection of particles, atoms that chose to suffer in unison.
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