Innocuous Lie
A passing word, a
lyric, a fleeting memory of a scent insipid,
As innocuous as the
games of a malicious child,
Who reads the book
but understands less the rules.
In unknowing
malevolence it skips on chalk,
In an empty
playground where all laughter taunts
Choices past bold
made, now seem worse than folly,
Promises once
amethyst pretty, lie in ruinous sublimity.
How easily the Fates
lose interest in a walled, broken city.
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