Synchronous Ischariotism


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Plea on kneels of mercy:
wept to the core of why,
yoke to the looms of mirrour,
plainly a sufferer of an unknown fate.

It’s all happening!
all at a time;
simultaneously a ringed treachery,
gloomy narrow attempt to dykes.

You,
I,
me,
we,
were one family–
and ozones of a single blood–
but why suddenly this,
owning my head to enemies?

The Village Thinker © 2014

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