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Cardinal Wings
It Paints in Sanguine Shades

It Paints in Sanguine Shades

No. Unus

Be a man; we’ve heard these words before,

Whispered and shouted with unearned ease by those who’ve scarcely thought on the subject.

Strength, hard and unyielding,

Absolute, so very unlike the circumstantial softness which only dogs deserve.

Of women, they are objects (of course),

Things to admire and deride, their weakness a tautological inherency:

Be a man; a thing that is not quiet or gentle-

-in no way can one be thusly;

Not in kindness or patience,

And especially never in feeling,

For assuredly they would make a man literate.

How tiring their lives.

(To never know the catharsis of a good cry.)

“But we are never afforded the opportunity!”

“We are made lesser if we do!”

“How would you, and you and you-”

“-how could you ever know what it means?!”

And there is the inborn disparity; to presume evil and not good

Of so-called fragility.

~

No. Duo

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

You are not deserving of the hatred you hold;

This self-inflicted thing of barbarous intent.

Not because of some inherent goodness,

And never for what you were.

Such notions are silly. Instead,

You are, each day-

-and every hour hence,

Stochastic potential:

Whatever that may be.

~

No. Tribus

If hope-

Can hope-

Will hope-

-we ask, never wondering:

Why not?

Have hope.

~

No. Quattor

The pane of glass is dirtied,

Shining speckles a growing trend.

They’ll have to wait until next year,

There are trails to run.

~

No. Quinque

If I must die tonight, let it be in the wilds,

Numbed unto warmth,

A frigid example of idiocy,

Smiling without care.

~

No. Sex

Let love be the seed-

Let tears be the rain-

Let friends be the ground-

-and you’ll never know shame.

~

No. Septem

Fear sings in the mind,

Part of a chorus - the ultimate irony,

For it does so afraid

Of others and itself.

~

No. Octingenti

The night is quiet, unmarred by your brilliance.

You are no more than a phantom,

Haunting.

I suppose I should be thankful,

But I refuse as much-

-you were a supernova of salience,

And I am still blind.

~

No. Novem

Should not empathy be the basis upon which practicality is forged?

I suppose there are arguments to be made against the notion

By those who haven’t a shred of humanity.

And I sincerely believe we would be bettered by their leaving,

Contradictions be damned.

~

No. Decem

I should wash my hair

And drink some tea,

Run a mile,

Cook and sleep.

It sounds simple,

No?