Mockery

The more it dawns, the more I see

The dark unfolds in bands to flee

Those glazed eyes gaze in quiet plea

The mockingbird shall axe the tree

Man's hand moulds the undersea

Of quiet waves, they never glean

The volcanoes erupt discrete

Hales and storms-a dismal fee

The rhymes all slant, I cannot read

The stylus makes its mark to bleed

The calls all quiet, blasted debris

The mockingbird shall axe the tree

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In lieu of the post I missed on September 11, 2021.