Ripped robes

Slaughtered in style;
Killed for kicks;
Punishment for the time
I ever really lived.

I was drowning in dreams
and days were depressing.
Starry nights of mundane lights;
A lush life in passing.

And in an ephemeral glimpse of looking back,
my mirrored image leaked discontent
as I grazed my hand through a foreign head
whose crossed eyes kept staring right back.

So I ripped out my sleeves
and sold my best dress.
I clutched to a few gold coins
then got up and left.

I locked my front door,
but left through the back.
My eyes were shut
even as I unpacked.


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