If there’s another way to tell my tale
Oh let me hear and sit
Beside your lap to weep
At the freshness of morning dew
That crisply crunches underfoot
And treetop’s verdant glow
All masked in white and fractals
The lonely traveler trope is cold
And lifeless
Beaten dead and left
To sing its songs to no one in particular
Though I have waged this war
Since youth have fled
Averted eyes still searching
Muted tongue and seeking substance
So will you play the storyteller
Dear Sister / Dear Brother,
Oh, will you mouth the words I’ve not
the faintest heart to sing?
And will you read my headstone
when my song is sung?
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