Mute

If every step into an unknown

was a father showing his son fear

Then what are we?

The segue stuck

to a pause.

 

The dormancy of nothing

but ourselves scolded,

Spanked, broken to a mould.

Trampled by the grounds step

and the absent hollow

of our own. Love given

up and soiled by

what we remain in

who we become.

 

The crack fell through itself

Into us, who dwell in the cavern

of our cold cleft bones

etching our brittle

on our walls.

 

The world goes mute

to an ear left in bow.

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