born

it was strange
the relentless movement
of sun in burdened sky
the hour of morning
the glare off the glass
assaulting the white walls
conspiring to infiltrate
the hallowed respite.

bloodied remnants
the color of desolation
sit upon her belly
devoid of life
a potential space
growing morality in a
derelict alley.

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About ky

Poet. Photographer. Writer. Goddess. View all posts by ky

2 responses to “born

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