March Poem by Tsani Jones

March



What happens
When the world we knew
Dies a slow death
Of sunburned dreams
Under a lamp of bad decisions?

I toe the starting line
The green mile of fate
I wear the fragile robe
On weakened shoulders.

My path is my own
But nothing is clear
I take unity with
Caesar's ghost and cry.

Words mean so little
In a void
Gestures nonexistent
No recompense for love's slave...

Choke on it
Feel the blood fill the throat
And know
Good reason has evaporated.

When the end of the line comes
Remember to smile for the camera-
For the paupers love the glee
Of a worthless sacrifice

Life is loss and pain,
So form the final thoughts
As joy of life's embers fade
Cold enough to touch a baby's skin.

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Tsani Jones

Tsani Jones

Atlanta, Georgia, United States
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