Today I croon a dirge
For the half formed, ill formed, misinformed

Sprouted, desired, aborted, thwarted, given up for dead
Raking autumnal colors’ curled dreams, I lament their passing

My palms are on oath and drive destiny on charted lines

Driver mind engages in tussles, accidents in the happenings

Gently unknotting moorings, preparing for final leg of life’ journey
I expertly scalpel all attachments, suture, cauterize, swab, bind

Finally, I lay me down on the bed of my own making
Singing for self that I once was, a requiem for the soon to be departed~


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