365 Days of Poetry — Day 153

Spoken for, by whipping winds and clouded lords,
are shielded hearts of unborn war.
There they drum in a patterned sum,
for all are there and with them none.

Isolated and spared,
but they find themselves with demons, paired.
It’s the bellows of the darkened heart
that stirs up chaos and a death called art.

-Brittany Rose

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