5 november 2016
Swaying
A chocolaty moon was rising.
I have lost my riverbed.
Accuser has become accused.
The hangman has shifted
the ground while glistening
in moonlight. Oxymoronic?
Eponym exited the lips of a drone fly.
A flotilla of tears
dies in an eye of a storm.
An audacity of a drifter
to stop the promiscuous honors
of strangers in death.
Only night-bloomers will watch
the sunrise in eternal lonliness.
The roots will always stay in dark.
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