New Poetry Wednesday: Furniture

Furniture

Battlefields come in fire
Drawn the wrong lines
As I lay in huddle
Hope to be nothing more
Than furniture dust
When fires settle
Between incorrect lines
Clouded by smoke
Battlefields come in fire
Burning high and fast
Warning signs all along
Drawn the wrong lines
As I lay in huddle
Regretful that I may
Have pieces to recollect
When I am furniture
Reduced to thrown ash
When fires settle
Shortly and for I pray
Day clears of smoke
So I may fix my lines
Battlefields come in fire
Staring too deep inside
Sharp against my form
Drawn the wrong lines
As I lay in huddle
Hope to be nothing more
Than furniture dust
When fires settle
By clouded horrid advice
I refused to hear
A thousand times between
The wrong lines as I lay
In smoky huddle

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