Poetry-Thing Thursday: Animus

Animus
Magnanimous and,
vile in its purest form.
Were we not so well worn,
I would know little,
of the sanctity from scorn.

Recursion,
perversion that,
when taken in moderation,
absolves as immersion,
into the multitudinous,
solutions that form consolation.

Proximity,
Calamity when,
wandered by the down-trodden,
shows the forgotten,
that nothing,
of life can broaden.

Suffering,
Engendering in,
the enchantress of sunlight,
as she weeps for trite,
matters that no man,
nor woman claims as rite.

Surpassed,
aghast and,
slack-jawed the warriors,
lay down their moors,
and rank and file, weaponry,
to ensure no victory for the quarriers

And we wonder where the heroes have gone.

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