The Family

June 1, 2017
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Their bed sags down, which is worn from age,

And full covers create a home.

Both their years have been long,

But exhaustion shows most on her face.

His maturity only jsut catching up to his body. 

Yellowlight threatened by encroaching darkness. 

 

Umber, grey drown his eyes wiht darkness.

His enabashed poseexhibits his age

That has existed in medium rather than body.

Familiar clutter makes the young one's home

Only an external womb-requires no courage to face.

Where to follow her gaze? For what does she long?

 

Her arms are hidden, his are long.

His crouching father can ward of darkness, 

Until it is too much to bear. When illness he must face

Without quit, and it snuffs before ripe age, 

He will llive on in many a home. 

Only empty to rot will be his body.

 

That is what cause such abhorrence, the body.

With exposed flesh in long

Forms, so many taken from his home.

His mindwas clouded in a different darkness, 

The kind that rains with age, 

And no one quite knows how to face.

 

Just the act of producing your own face

Takes the quality which he found in his body.

His body that drapes naked on sheets of age,

Perhaps in years will succumb to sick, not long.

His eyes, her hair, under the bed, a darkness

Which is partner to a true home.

 

He to her as the umber to their home,

Though love can be found in more than one face.

Keep your yellow skin intact, keep the darkness

From entering your raw, sick body.

Take cover or comfort from truth that we are not long.

We leave soon enough, He takes at any age.

 

Don't take shelter in your age as your home,

You can't know how long until you see His face, 

When your body is lost and you are only darkness. 






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