The brush beside
A fence unkempt is
Breaching through
Broken slats of rust.
The decaying of our
Heart’s discontent,
Crumbles of cement,
Lament and mistrust.
Regrettably the wood
Has dried to splintered
Perfection; fractured
Enough to pierce our
Callused skin. Thus,
There is no peace and
No security no matter
How well we attempt
To fence ourselves in.