bad widdershins

Wings of Cloaken Skybirds

Death of a ceiling broken past

Remains of regret for niceties

Falling too fast to catch


Timed too inummerable to measure

Clogs and slips the gap

Running out of sharecroppers

Land of our souls  impasse


Two many of whole

Three nutmegs in a bowl

Fortnite clasped so tight

Fingers around the cone


Silence of creatures 

Wind blows against our home


This poem is about: 
Our world
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