Boring Wash

by Sableshade

Wring out the dry paste and let the leaves fall towards us

Seasons are going amuck like routes going pass

We are among the next voter, as they were, as were they

It`s a sneaky sense of torrents, yet it doesn`t tell a lie

It won`t matter, but we all must not quash; history was right,

we`ll be history if ignoring common sense is all that`s left in the head

The line is grey, but not a polygon

 

What are “bricks”? A field of rock for folding the way beyond a space some place in a room?

Then make the room more open than some rotating door

This was before the results circled in, but why vitriolage now?

Will melting the land we travel be the new way, again?

Can shame be seen behind the burns made by the innocent contest, this is not a question

These errors of ways are not questions, yet we attack them with our thinnest bowls of “Flesh be Gone”

Maybe you should have a taste….But that will get us nowhere…

 

Little ones need us, friends do, family do, rivals too, others too; strangers do too, soon

We`ll need to clean up the mess alone otherwise, without a maintenance hand

We still have each other, so be there even as the contest comes to a close; fair is fair

People are still who people are, is that a problem?

Then fix the lines without becoming your own enemy

We are not entitled to force our way on a terrible fate

That would solve nothing, but it would prove history had a fact about who we are

 

 

For now, let us take a moment of silence, then compassion this strange pain

Some of us are not getting our favorite meal, but it’s still food, and we have seasoning

It’s not just a table or “yours”, we made this table over time

It’s not something that can be smashed all because of a lash and a point proven wrong

Work takes time, love takes time, tolerance takes time

Opportunity takes time along with the above and unmentioned

When we’ve had our fill, we still got to do the dishes, so use your head, not blind patriarchal vore

 

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