I Bleed Words Sometimes

Don’t go

Tied to the oak tree,
Listen to the music of the wind.

As the leaves rustle I see him approaching.
He calls him self Love.

Standing with his hands behind.
Looking at the helpless frame.
Blank eyes.
Empty heart.

He moves away swiftly.
Not looking over his shoulder even once.

Tied to the oak tree.
I listen to the music of the leaves.

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