Cleaver it anew, like a piece of meat.
Indulgent perversion?
Perhaps! Barring inquisitiveness,
Entirely! But a feeling of nostalgia.
Desire to revisit the agony, the bitterness, the tenderness.
Fascinated with the drama: life, living.
Tentatively stabbing and jabbing at the rawness of memory.
Once it had bled.
So profusely, so uncontrollably.
Like a mere spectator, an apparition even
Watched the theatrical persecution.
A claustrophobic abyss had remained then.
Unconscious and imbecilic.
Season was it? Generation maybe.
Went by.
Much mending proceeded.
However the fishing line tugs
Intermittently, reminder of the age-old ballad.
The oath! Loyal and enduring.
Nevermore concede. The debris triumphant
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