The Black Palisades


 

This flesh and bone asylum,
paralysing and hollow -
teeming with conjecture
upon cold, deaf ears.
Closed silver eyelids,
pupils gazed upon the walls 
of an odious skull.
The carvings upon the palisades
violently sombre.
Ardency in locked glass caskets,
the ripe buds of flowers laid to rest.
They rot and weep -
like a greiving young widows 
devoid black veins.














 

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