Slip.

Digging your pen deeper into your paper won’t change what your words say.

Salt splattered lines don’t turn the minds of the fallen soldiers along your way.

Rereading each line, as if you don’t remember the moment it was laid,

Will not rearrange the broken roads that you are unsure of how to pave.

You throw every piece that you can find, straight up into the greying sky, hoping that the shards will catch the light– Fall down around you like eternal summer

You hurl every piece of you that you hold, hurl them into the unknown, hoping that you won’t grow cold—Fall down around you blown asunder. 

Building the walls up around your castle will not keep them from trying to cross your moat

Writing firey arrows will not keep the Winter from creeping into all your winter coats.

Fighting for a king who leaves peasants at his feet will only leave you standing in your own defeat.

A shiny armor will not stop the thieves from taking what they feel is due

A jester in a royal crown is still only a fool.

You throw every piece that you can find, straight up into the greying sky, hoping that the shards will catch the light– Fall down around you like eternal summer

You hurl every piece of you that you hold, hurl them into the unknown, hoping that you won’t grow cold—Fall down around you blown asunder. 

You want him to remember your song in the empty dining room. To remember the echo of the last note you held. The look in his eyes that said he was the one that fell. You need to bleed out that song from every pore of your skin. Every single moment that he was ever in.

You pick every piece that you can find, the ones that you threw into the sky, fist fulls that you must hide—Slip them deep into your pockets.

You pluck every sliver every shard, you always knew letting go was hard, you’ll throw them one day soon…and far—Slip them into darkness.

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