I was given a rhyme,

that was not mine,

a place to tell,

yet I would oversell,

a sea of green,

in a field of red,

the eyes not open,

yet words not said,

a fleeting moment,

caught up in the seeds of time,

woven to finite,

the disease was mine,

postured stances over bodies mine,

predicted hatred given fly,

a worm that never turned,

the violence of design,

constructed boxes made to fail….