The tyranny of boundless love is a paradox I need not explain.
A battlefield in every man that lies between his heart and brain.
And some will say it would be worse if how it is now wasn’t so.
Others scream and gnash their teeth, lost and forgotten, nowhere to go.
The grass is always greener where the blood’s spilt, on this grassy knoll,
The water’s always deepest where the ferryman collects his toll.

One Response to “titleless”

  1. aricollins Says:

    This is such a fantastic Lewis Carroll-esque poem, but it should be “untitled”, not “titleless”. I keep seeing that as “titless”.

    Now I challenge you to write a piece called “titless”. Feminist story of a flat-chested girl? The revenge of a double mastectomy patient on the world? The story of an alien species that wants to plunder our world’s limited breast resources? A Choose Your Own Breast adventure?

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