Eclectic Lies


What of these vows we make.  Real or imagined.  Spoken or, assumed.  Promises behind cupped hands.

I still collect…broken things.

My vain attempt at avenging secrets I would rather not keep.

All whimsical obligations.

Random boughs on a trail to somewhere else.

Court ordered family lies.

Often seen in charming disguise.

 

Ironic, but away from the pledge, I never feared that I would not make it home.

Comfort came with words and song.

 

I am used to collecting used things.

Marred, scarred, dented.

I built with pride..this broken home.

 

My brother, my sister,

mainstream.

Outwardly able to live a lie.

Able to forgo…the why.

Still in the darkness of sleeplessness,

their anger cries.

 

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