Ignominy’s disdain

Cleaved like a butcher

Birthing numerous deaths


Dying is easy

Living hard

Reinventing self harder


Mind is a porous lockbox

Losing effervescent nuggets

Retaining mostly bitter distillates


Petit mort occurs daily

Dishonor is a grievous death

Resurrecting unabated labor pains


Soul is water in cupped palms

Tread with care, once compromised

causes numerous deaths


gift of crisp hours twenty four daily

to spend at will, make each moment

momentous, a host of florescent memories


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