58 per cent visible

Straddle sight at half-light

with a half pint planted slightly to the right

Out of mind and out of sight

Never short of breath

Short of the reasons that come when you simulate death

and scatter the pieces to analyse what’s left

 

Too focused on the theft, the stealing in to steal a moment

that drop of gin, key component

Day, night, simply same

Same old withered soul

sat amidst rubble, nobody to blame

 

Gathering in the corrupt and the lame

until the day the owl came

and noted down those for whom ‘twas time to leave

In an open room with a rolled up sleeve

one cleaves to indifference and ignores what we achieve

 

Symbol of sin beneath broken skin

of a worn out man with a crooked tie pin

Typing in what it meant to be free of sin

Defence wearing thin

Too late, we have already let them in

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