good evening, all benevolent

regard your once upon a time
as a once upon a time
and tell your story, rightly, from the start
there was never much of life
you held to painting racing stripes
upon your wilderness;
a forest for its light

now sometimes your words spin
and sometimes they fall in
like candle wax, go dripping toward the floor
and even when the night begot
no charlatans who sought
to form no idiotic phrasing on the door frame

what a crock
what a shame

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