Creative Mistakes

Show Me

Mother’n Father, sixth day, first breath

Let Us make Others for This one

We’ve started

What’s This lovely Other called

Iron, Cage, Bar, Woe t’man

Good start, but She’s never woe

Next’re smaller Others, angelic to pull pity

What’ve Those there, tiny, loyal Others

Gogs and Magogs, Friends, pure mirrors

Damn

What is it

Damned, th’batch’ll barely brook

How could We know

You see it in Their blue blurs, dull d’eyes

What Other could They possibly need

Oh Son, the usual, faith, love, pain, death

So They prey for Their own end

True, but These Kind always Rise again

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