The archer that strikes from behind

It must make sense to synchronize a body

into a series of the complex; rust unpolished.

Less sense, however, to digest the susceptibility

of the rough, with the raw, with the weary

To the orphans of this gawky road, can’t even‍

I’ll pretend it’s alright, it is as much as it isn’t

You’d give it all, just to gain it all

Don’t. Even for a minute

Convince your other self

That woodpeckers carve because they sculpt.

 

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Published by

S.K.

This right here, keeps me sane. You will find here, sincere thoughts mixed up with a subconscious trying to fuck it all up. I hope you understand.

5 thoughts on “The archer that strikes from behind”

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