A Darker Version of Ourselves

It’s uninspiring, the rain’s gray aria
so we lay our little weapons down
in rows and thicken with the clouds.
Moving phantom-like through crowds,

I keep tabs on my pulse, diminishing
in the dinning poised to subdue
the silence. Images of violence
parade across the mind’s still screen.

We careen into a darker
version of ourselves, and pull
the light from the other’s gaze,
sinking slowly in the winter haze.

-r. miller

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