Sometimes I Cry


Sometimes I cry,
divide does this crucible.
Flow until I’m undone
and can go no more.
Sometimes I cry,
exhausted are spirits
that I know well I tell
of a happy life so poor.
I know not the sun
like I have done before.
The speed of life I’ve
lived has slowed I adore.
My cracked vision my
pursuit of deadening all
that hurts to defeat
so I break down crawl.
Shit has felt like a knife
that strife begged me
to cut loose strife to see
how the water sets free.
Weight lightened floor
of the river cuts so I float
with clear vision and
wise quiet from a throat.

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