My Sour Storm (#71)

Sharply stung before my evening block
Chapters fold and shake
My sour storm is wild, free
She poses like an electric feather
Perched on golden stairs
With potential realized
Defenseless ego, my war-torn humble
Lingering ripples shove me off a roof
Splat
Unfamiliar concrete
Bleeding, sore
Search for her
Distance kept
While memories leak
From a crack in my head

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