Open Palms and Empty Skies

I shall be sparse
as shallow as our old
beaver pond after
a dry parched summer.

I will not let you in
your sole intention is to
feed your own desperate
and dark desires.

Your cannon mouth
is a revolutionary weapon
outdated and overused
your life a thousand cliches
cut up and thrown as confetti
into winter winds heading east
towards an angry sea.

You are not my problem
I could never fix you, playing
humpty dumpty with your life
since you were a child.

There is a pause which leads 
to a silent knowing, it's the 
acceptance of truth that 
makes the difference.

In the end there is no Us
there is only you and I
left with open palms
and empty pockets
eyes glaring at an 
empty sky.



This poem is about: 
My community


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