Fractured Night

We of the fractured night.
The hidebound and hand-shaken.
We tell-tale signs
of life lived out on the edges.
Moisten-up and move on.
Haul-up the anchor and sail.
Set the wheel to straight,
lashing it shut with old leather.
We the children of yesteryear,
look on in horror
as the old world is torn apart.
Served-up as a sacrifice.
To the tiny gold shovel
that’s used to dig our graves.


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