Swing

Empty chalice,

The deep echo of aching halls–

A splintering rupture,

Cast down like waste into the gravel. 

Back down the slope,

A progression of failure.

Spun by chances–

Deeper into the darkness. 

Only a shadow–

Gone when the light is shown. 

The lost promise–

Whispered over dry lips,

Was never there at all. 

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