I must have another name
Hidden in the secret woods
Of God’s ancient lament.
I must have some other pain
A different one, deeper than
Aches, cuts or cries.
I must reveal some beauty
A silver leaf amidst ashes
Just found to erase my days.
I must proceed with a dream
Not mine but kindly given
To seem so: my fakest truth.
I must walk every morning
Like a chronic health condition
Pretending to be happy.
I must be the product, understand
The process, forget the origin
In order to manure this guilt.
I must invite death everyday
Light the candles, serve the wine
Look at these blanks, my clouds.
Do you must?
Comments
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I like the connection I can make with this. I especially like the lines "my fakest truth" and "I must walk every morning Like a chronic health condition Pretending to be happy." Nice

. Rewarded 4
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"...Light the candles, serve the wine
Look at these blanks, my clouds."
What an ending to the poem that was. Beautiful, really.. Rewarded 4
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some wishful thinking and longing very well expressed that you carried me also with your words....





