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Brown Bess

Benoît Pioulard

O ye of many faces, whose stumbles seal the coffin
A bloom to bring the latest cos trials shed too often

In whispers fake an orchard, affection just like coughing
Belies the lately tortured; can't hide or make it soften

The mask you kept eliding grows warped in its concealing
Its grin i fight abiding despite an endless healing

This risk entails some chances; pulseflutters utter their namea
Pproaching through the branches, heatstroke blurs the barrel's aim

Ears ring