the box

[cacian]

I love the words
they ring a sort
a song a clause
about a morte
a body ward
that stood up
tall for centuries
but then felt
dawn
came to a close
as it laid
polled
unmoved and
bored

I love the words
they sound the sort
a person port
that lay the lords
revise the worlds
into a box
they think
they own
but soon the fault
shows up and plauds
the crack is mold
and
the box gives up
its load and falls