cases lining walls
no room for the smallest of small chairs,
placed ever so exactly one space to the left
cannonballs clunked on tables,
round and round alike,
heavy like iron bridges,
on backs of men with wooden legs
spinning on the spot,
leaving indentations many upon one.
oh foul!
you
have scratched the antiquties,
replace them it is impossible you see
cannons taken and loaded,
into carts drawn by goats,
trodding down roads,
leading no where in particular
somewhere down the line,
a ruckus emerged
heartily we charged full
fledged,
path upon path,
seeing only blind birds struck by the sun,
whose
bodies had begun to dismember
calling forth an unseen terror in the eyes of the follower,
a far cry
from safety,
retreat retreat my gentle folk,
fore being is absloute and
undeniably fulfilling.
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