Faded

Thin line of blood trickling down a skinned-knee

divining flood; brittle the crown begins thee.

Once one wonders when they then thunder three

like leavened heavenless breaths friends asunder flee.

Bitterest brine tickling throneless Guaranís

far before unforrested fetters finally fluttering free.

Marking as unremarkable as the fable once decreed:

Begone! Began her long-lost last soliloquy…

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