Crossing lines drawn on his heart
Kinbaku for his three
The finish coming down to this
Promise made in agony
Dancing spirals coil through his skin
Draw him deep for more
Whispering of might have been
The deep and pungent lie
Scars of hopeless yesterday
Riding on the tides
To mark the surging nets of fear
That hold him tangled there
There is no middle, that’s the lie
No this way and no that
Half-submerged as good as dead
For now the lines are cut

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