Thoughts are hidden,
So is intent,
A voice is external,
An outward expression of what’s inside,
A scream is visceral and dangerous
To heart and home, from tomb to throne,
And Jade is the smarter older brother, the color
Of the man who pretends,
It shouldn’t be easy
Until your vision is built, and passions aligned,
Some location, mid-rift of guidance and hope,
On which the sidewalk lanterns burn,
Slight, this even keel atmosphere seems to me,
With blades of green, ambitions hinder prosperity,
Tainted are the wild eyes, roving in a ginger walk,
Hidden behind pleasantry’s veil, choice words concealing animus
Another encounter bound for forgiveness,
Another promise which fails to last,
A triage mentality will only heal you once you’re harmed,
Ignoring the obvious, you clink your glasses,
Soon to drown in a milquetoast, drawn by hand
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