Black Drones

The puppets
dance in dark alleys

Black drones drop messages
across of the battlefield, singing
we kill, we kill, we kill

Give us form without substance

There was something common
in our guess work

You blow apart my childhood
fantasies with delight

From the songbirds
below the earth to the golden
fruits of the heavens

I thought all was within reach
Until you drove my unscrutinised
armies back in defeat

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