The Underground Poem by Dylan KD.

The Underground



They're church is grey to make them run
in a golden hex full of horns
and douse the carousel that drips in fatigue
with blows of the clock above the lakes.

Each sliver climbs a bundle of claymores
and its particle dreams in it's still flu
the hooves of the oceans stream in cancers
as they break on the filament display.

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