Balk against the tasks that beckon
your back turned oh so slight
the weight
may take
your right to flight
always at stake.
Hide the key that turns the lock
lest no one find it and
your soul rot
sweep the crumbs under the sheet
my sweet
no one will see
'till morn'
that your son was born
and grows
thriving
under the setting sun
while you
under clouds
wither.
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