super sinister sound of your eyes, beautiful
wooden shoulders measured
in age by numbers of colors.
Our feet cracking the plastic
undergrowth of forests bigger than elders
all firstborns, all sons
of all their fathers
not here to mend us.
We don't stand a chance.
Image from: http://herachary.deviantart.com/art/Every-word-was-an-execution-146135718
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