Thursday, 11 May 2017

The fall.

The things,
For which you find the time,
Are not the things,
For which I find mine.

Our priorities and preferences,
Are now misaligned.
The ease in which we take to this,
Is all the evidence I find.
It leans so heavy to one side,
I can sense it's about to fall,
I sense you're nudging rugs out,
And will not mourn the fall.



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