The Fallen-Grass

There's anger in the fallen-grass,
And rage out on the plain;
For dew that falls like morning guilt,
For words that drip, and stain --

No varnished lies can cover this,
No magic twists of pen:
For we are too far down the path,
And can't go back 

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One thought to “The Fallen-Grass”

  1. Really interesting poem, thanks for sharing! I am probably not going to look at a lawnmower in the same way again now.

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