©2023 michael raven
my rusted scabs are
not yours to pick for you
to view the barbed wire
buried just underneath
black white yellow red
i always face northeast
in the water stone and
in admiration of
banshees crying for a dying
words | spirit
©2023 michael raven
my rusted scabs are
not yours to pick for you
to view the barbed wire
buried just underneath
black white yellow red
i always face northeast
in the water stone and
in admiration of
banshees crying for a dying
Oh wow Micheal this was really good! I love the title as well
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This one seems to want to be a song. I can’t help but hear it over guitar, sung by one of those awesome voices that sounds like it’s been soaked overnight in whiskey and dried in tobacco smoke. : )
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Oddly enough, that was the only singing voice I could manage when I was still playing acoustic guitar in a folksy kind of band. I mostly lost that sound now that I’ve quit both the whiskey and the smokes…
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Glad you still have the guitar : )
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Those first few lines are so good. Some people sure do like to pick, don’t they?
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Indeed. I find myself impatient with those people.
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