Going down

Out here Indians weeped buffalo once roamed on an impulse greed ran life into the ground 'til nothing was left around. This old homestead still accepts each setting sun has memories of suffering from guns. Imagine the view from a windowsill believing life can be fulfilled before going down.

What does it expect?

walking beneath the moon I wonder what does it expect? I present myself as a stranger knowing soon it shall disappear without hearing my wishes those living inside a cocoon. Funny how it never replies when asked what are you going to do in the sky?

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