{ expendable }

another life that barely started
laid upon the sodden earth,

another tree cut down, uprooted,
branches lost forever;

but choruses of lies turn silent
with the keening wind

when those we deem expendable 
are used up once again.

 the day breaks beautiful, and painted,
 but the sorrowed heart

 seeks for answers not forthcoming,
 people have moved on —

 so much we see is just landscaping,
 hiding all the holes,

 except for those inside we carry,
 or, that carry us.

another future once imagined,
placed upon a shelf,

a circumstantial enterprise,
an existential guilt;

a fenced-in yard we can’t escape,
a walk that has no goal,

the place of the expendables,
our clearinghouse 

for souls

Author: Beleaguered Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.

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