The Stream

Trickle down the wind wire
droplets tumbling and rolling

condensation admired in theory
residues of resins

a point made well-intentioned
but perceived as manipulating

a breaking glass eye
bounces on concrete steps

he enters and she departs
grinding a path from sorry to near

the eternal stage of conflicts
judged by insolence

torn from truthy weight
restored to the throne of lies

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