Whining

After the third round of chemotherapy,
With burning sage and the blood lettings,
We walked out in the snow and died of cold.
Auction for the peaceful mind of loansharks
And bankers, set inside the ephemera
Of any life, short.
Temporary lives be sure to climb the tallest mounts and stand atop to pause a while,
In great hope of flight amongst the dreams,
Now synonymous with aspiration, failure,
The dashing of hopes against rocks, surf.

 
Written by Mr Woods on 26/09/18
© 2018 Anthony Woods

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life, Hope, Dreams, Flight

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