
Wash me away no more.
Seal not my fate with your crooked lies.
The tales you weave will be your demise.
To the shore of disease,
to the mountainous caves of hidden dreams.
I will stand from there to here
I will amass myself to engulf all that are tattered
left for dead and shattered
pieces of love stepped, swept
hidden in cracks,
shielded by bloodied sheets
and wasted into days-old trash
I’ll find them.
To plaster the voids
and bury the lies
to heal the sores
so you’ll never say
they’ll be no more.
Don’t Try ~ Just Do
K.L. de Ville
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