The Dear Truth

Shannon Pugh



Damage done,
In plots of green grass,
Candles bright and dim.

How can one recover,
Graves that are gone,
Sunk and resurfaced.

There are angels in the dark,
Dreaming of humans in heaven's light,
Numb of reality.

We are powerful,
Gods with heads so full,
Stomachs empty and tight.

Swearing to the spirits,
Liquid relief,
Hard and soft.

Forgotten but never lost,
Relieved but completely depraved,
Counting infinity on the back of a hand.

Made to hit,
Yet too passive to move,
Gone, but not too far to travel.

There is a truth we must unravel,
In threads of worn connection,
Blessed and damned.

Here in time,
Reversed and inverted,
Disfunctional salvation.


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