discord ants


Such a strange cold land,

This living thing,

This sour sweet

And mournful fling

Once viewed through

Smoky prism rose,

Misled were we,

With much to lose

If looks can kill,

What then of words?

Those silent smiling

Blood-thirsty birds

They swoop around

Inside the head,

With graceful pause,

And measured dread

Awaiting another

Chance encounter,

A lonesome heart,

Led to the slaughter


…while playing always the malcontent

In ringing tones so dissonant,

The minds eye no longer listens…


copyright r.b.franklin 15/06/06

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