pseudopoetic anachronistic writer's superhell

First created December 4th, 2023.
Last edited December 4th, 2023.


In the ancient glade
It’s always dark
The quiet shade
Across old bark

Trees as far as
the eye can see
gently, the wind whispers
a familiar motif

Across old bark
It’s always dark
The quiet shade
In the ancient glade

Rolling fog fills
the sides of my eyes
the space in my lungs
the gaps in my mind

The blood we’ve spilt
The tears we’ve cried
Never truly enough
Not in their eyes.

It’s always dark
Across old bark
In the ancient glade
The quiet shade

Do you hear me now?
Did it matter then?
Was it worth the wait?
Was it worth it all?

I look beyond
at a starlit sky
breathe argon, dust
just you and I

The scent of pine
hot ash and bone
sticky tree sap
truly, our home

Drift far away from
fickle reality
I remembered you
Will you remember me?

The quiet shade
Across old bark
In the ancient glade
It’s always dark.


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