Spasm

What murmur stutters into existence?
Fast and slow.
Checking out of morality and shaking into something else.
Blur the lines of acceptance.
As we slither into another skin.
And cry within.
Apologise with deep sensation.
Called everything but what you are.
At first it really hurt, but now we joke about it.
Diminished as the light turns low.
Knee jerk into a falling, a sweeping weeping that leaves you empty.
You gave your best today, but you stumble.
Stutter and spasm into another day, another time.
A romantic funeral for the martyr of destiny.
That role no-one chose.
A goodbye for the already forgotten.

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