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Idle
'The devil makes work for idle hands'.
The devil, or idle curiousity? I ask,
scratching at loose wallpaper
lining my otherwise pristine room.

It is, gnawing in evening tumbleweeds,
that history has been hidden beneath!
The lavish green that covers swirls
of crimson drawings children left
when they knew peace before.

Luckily, the rickety cabinet covers
this misadventure,
this secret only I can know.
Though, it goes a little deeper,
shades of magenta in calming undertones.

I pick and I pick, until I reach brick.
The search now has lost all meaning.
A waste of a summer, wondering.

© DanGlyn