Dried

Dried words are my tears
eaten by the burning grass
once so green... so green...

Faded to the west
where the sun was last seen
with the ashes of my forsaken heart

Winged golden creatures
stranger angels have chosen my fate
kinder than myself

Shaded they will be,
independent and free
lost rasps, almost half past a century

Silenced by nothing
although they seem to faint
at everything they feel.


*K
MARCH
*Y
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