agony in the garden
sorrowful mystery
deliver me exquisitely
olives left on the tree
softening my pulp

battered in the alleyway
latter-day tragedy
soul to squeeze
born to be the bravest of the bunch

nervous nerving swerving
curling in a ball of broken
loathing knowing how the pins and needles
dig when morning comes

bored of breathing backwards
out of in of out
surrounding mounds devour
how compassion sounds
eroding in the sun

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