Scuttled away…

Such a shame!
To inhume those halcyon afternoons
When the children resembled convalescent birds
In early winters,
Unable to soar towards welcoming lands where
Generous splinters
Of imperative warmth get stuck in the weary skin from below
Tirelessly fluttered wings.
Hermetic surfeit of wax inside my ears.
Deaf, I became docile and scuttled dexterously (cowardly)
Away from their tears.
No fight.
The perspective of sophisticated pirouettes on oblivious
Gossamer of insouciance lured me more.
Why accept being the delirious
Scion of a misery suffused with interminable exertions?
Shame, but not guilt.
The occasional grimaces of my irksome conscience can’t stop
The pristine fate that I now built.

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