poems

Passive aggressive.

Passive aggressive
18/08/2018

They light fantabulous these glorious aspiration hunters.
They light the stage and glow all paths.
A spotlight of future epitaphs.
They hone the night sky.
Bright light in a babys eyes.
They hold tight and record old lies.
Then clutch on like stalagmites.
Growing forth despite me, unwavering diligently.
Until a part of the soul, that’s frightening.
I light fantabulous then glorious apirations I hunt!
Passive aggressive.
A secular front.

© G.P Williamson 2019

Also writing under “Cursed Rider” on
https://cursedrider.home.blog/

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