Death Does Woven Emotions — Jaded

Death, held in the heartstrings of melancholy,
molding the heart, body, and soul
into a slouched-over form,
broken by people, places, and things.
He sits alone, complying with the consistency
of his trial, darkened by robust testimony.
Melancholy stretches from bogus testimony
to uplifting revelations.
Parting ways from family, friends,
aunts and uncles,
sitting in a burned-out field—
dark,
white,
gone.
Complying with consistency has drained
the robust testimony,
his final meaning:
just wait for death.
He’s sitting on swings, waiting for honey.
Thank you, Mama—
Mother Mary.

“Cutting ties.
This city girl—
yikes, grab a knife and cut it off.
I don’t play with being robbed.
Oh, that’s an amazing line for a song:
The Benefit of Reincarnation.”