Days

The clock on
Incongruous limbs
Hands out each day
As retribution

Punitive and molten
The hours inhume
Earthly misery
So close to the surface…

Like blood that
Runs just beneath
Skin: Hidden
But barely,

Until the nights arrive
With their arsenal,
Banishing birds and
Light from skies.

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About Runa

With words you can reveal, hide, confuse, clarify, rule, beg, love, hate. In speech words live momentarily and die with the moment. In writing, they are immortalised and in being unspoken and unwritten, they become omnipotent: God like. My words here could have remained unspoken. Could have. They're immortal and that's enough. View all posts by Runa

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