under her dusty eyelashes

through the icky alley
she flees-
tightening reins
the horse neighs in soreness

on its hoofs
as jangle of the heavy,
shiny chains disturb her
it can’t trot
halting is no option
for it will saddle up
burden, torture, hatred
piercing her feeble soul

fleeing is no good
too, i would say
for she will flounder in dry
striking out blithe hours
disparity as such is
to you too
because it is the person
same, indecisive—
sprinting fierce
away from the muffled shadows
created under
her dusty eyelashes

once spawned
to be bore
again i warn—
running is ruinous
standing lone under
yellow flickering bulbs
i see
she’s long gone


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