This was the rise of animal
after dividing
the pain of man.
The shared past―
would guide the misreading,
calling bloodbath a mistake.
Balancing the pole, walking
on long rope, in sheer
darkness of moonless night.
The words fall on your
feet, begging the exoneration
from name-calling.
Square meals and two lipped
lavenders, will bring the aroma
to wipe out nonexistence.