Who shall breath once the air has gone
Once civil war enters our lungs
As intervention sleeps on the tongues
Of those once outspoken

Birthed into this epilogue
Light wanes and feathered things have gone
A boycott of the swallow’s song
Only predicting the past

She lingers inside, noiseless, gentle
Uncoils her arms with movement so subtle
A merciful kiss, a graceful rebuttal
Concealing herself away once more

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