Open Wound

Copyright holds my life in balance,
And the data is sometimes irreparable,
Once and forever mistaking love
For its former identities hidden and masked.

I disagree with you,
And here are the scars I prove it with:

Forsaken without a chord,
Hired without a wage,
And dead without belief.

So feed my stomach
With oscillatory structures,
And help me keep
The words descending like snowflakes.

And upon them we pray
To the everlasting and eternal force
Which covers all things in it’s snow.


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