Grandma chants

With dreams afire
You give gratitude to the slayer
And the slain?
Pulling down a curtain on vengeance

And how does he live then?
If life is no place for joy,
Nor gratitude from retribution
What is this then?

The truth of the slayer?!
That he must bow at her feet,
Even when her path travels the past,
Tapes casualties of an asylum

Grandmother loves dolls,
She knits cotton puppets, 
Her children, a decree she chants,
Over her grave in their dreams

The web she weaves,
The shadow of her ghost,
A halo over their heads
The fright in his eyes

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thank you for reading
please check out more on my wall and would love to know your thoughts

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