The river has lowered itself before
The range of lifeless
Trappings that are now grimacing on
A toothless campaign
To revile what lies in the guts of
Remembered stones and
Caricatures of a truthless visage.
It climbs out, you
Will see at times of unchimed, un
Rhymed decibels, it
Takes measure of an unseen vale of
The grimace crying &
Detaching; the river is not known
To go on like this &
It is not for you to know or I to
Want to know; That's
Just how it aches, how the detached
Need to flow is armed
With a distaste for the just-past,
The yet to be known.
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