A Nostalgic Bruise

Here I am:

Standing naked of earth and sand –

To rid this dusty land of legacy and rotted out bones, bleed ashen words upon this page of virgin tones.

My youth, thus, desecrated – imprudence awaits, a trust and an unknowing glance from a sleepy boy’s eyes,

Why, is this a generational hindrance from ancient times?

Or, was it simply her?

I don’t know, but she gave me fuel to write.

Within this Omega Point of integrity, we shall always be tested

amongst the god’s ruins,

or, as a ripening soul

embarked upon a journey

of the humanity factor, and

of an evolutionary force.

Yet, as I write with venomous ink

From this revolutionary pen

Nostalgic thoughts creep in, again.

But, within a heart of damage that hears her fate –

My poetic query begins to interrogate, as

I begin to rid this dusty land of legacy and rotted out bones, bleed ashen words upon this page of virgin tones.

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