April Poem 6: NaPoWriMo

I am discourse.
The American.
That accident of necessity.
As I go through the same time,
My hand is modern day’s indentured motions.
With a second faulty hand,
The viewers of the urn of the dead
Came up in the night symbolism.
I am the eyes to focus.
You’re the sleeping hands on Tommy,
The light that bathed the attic of chest.
What he needs to overcome
Before several years publishing the name.

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