The white threadwork glistened in the sun’s expanse
The beheaded manikins were captured there
Like flies with wings snared by the ebon weave
A solar expanse and a blinding collapse
All in an instant
Sun dried emotion drug out in the open
I was splitting apart from the inside
As my glass fell in slow motion
Inanimate and floating through time
All at a glance
The hand fell from its rest within mine
A turning head is all I saw that night
As the sun went down so did my spirits
My eyes no longer harbor the strength to stay open
Nor my fingers the will to write
As I fade to the world’s injustice
Be it that I leave my own little mark
If not but a little scratch
I’d use my finger nails and make an “S”
Maybe I could manage an “O” and a couple “R”s
But I’d probably die before I finished with a “Y”
