The Queen On A Silver Dollar

Words are written like spiders that have danced in ink,
Across the pages facts are re-written,
Painted from bruised memory,
I see skies only with creases in them.
So fold me now into myself,
Pin my paper heart to the wall.

Fat and thin, a delicate thing,
Secrets shared only on streets under moonlight.
The never, the maybe, the equal transition,
Is the beating of my mind.

The muscle pulls away in threads,
A sad sentiment of a fallen empire.
Sell me your story that will lead nowhere,
Replace the world with your anxiety.

Inviting hysterectomy of the self,
A bullet filled tissue is inviting a re-match.
How could a god make twins so dumb,
To dance so merrily in front of the gun?

Author's Notes/Comments: 

A nation that falls for everything stands for nothing.

truedreams's picture

good one

you really set a square duck for the judgement as you paint a picture of actuality

allets's picture

Excellent Write - Across The Board

Been away. Back. Found you. And I am so glad - nice weave, love the spiders in ink - yes! ~~A~~