monotone belligerence
juxtaposed with the
Autumn evening shade
of pleasance
they don’t make masks
like these in heaven
no, these are forged in
the fires far below
war of one versus one
consuming the liquor of
this frontline frenzy
- adrenaline
stomping through the roses
seeing one among the many
more a lovely pink than red
perhaps, the one
(Image: pink rose bokeh by Sophie-Y on deviantart.com)
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