Red Handed

Standard

So what’s the bliss in blister?
As your wisdom’s twisted sister city
is razed to the ground,
you sound out the pieces
of a prison sentence.

This isn’t really an admittance
of a shortcoming.

It’s a kind of skirting around the main idea,
not coming right out and saying it,
but still everyone knows
what you’re talking about.
Their eyes probe deeper than you know.

-r. miller

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