Not a crafted image but much more flawed.
The scent of that endless guilt and those nameless dawns.
Toothless smiles surrounded by a convenient amnesia.
An unquenched curiosity and an unbridled enmity.
Home, an idea besieged by the sea.
Dreams of the sea always ended with me drowning.
Silence, a diversion from the festering cracks.
With no disguises left, there is nothing to see.
Wherever neighbourliness dies, only flags of anguish fly.
You are the seed I no longer see from the branches.
You are the dream I pull from the ashes.