Two Birds Brokeup
We became walking diatribes of moving phrases,
Tacklingthe burden of hunchback monotones,
Shackled with the lead of empty metaphors,
All along flunging an apple at the smirking moon,
In the beginning was a feeling,
A feeling now condensed into sentenced boredom,
If not for the breakup
We'd be wearing our sunday schooled silences.
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