Friday 16 January 2015

Innocent



The rampage trail
Of the sad elephant
The flutter of a bird
Trying to be butterfly heard

The desperate reach
Of a small hand’s angle
The brightest idea
Of the bigger bungling me

We are sliding
Upwards down
We are hiding
We are hiding
Until gone

It’s the token dream
Stirring up the rarest team

It must be in this nominal class
And my pliancy of resistant mass

That
We are sliding
Upwards down
And up
We are hiding
Until we matter
We are hiding
Hiding until gone


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