An Ode to the Overton Window

12 Mar

O Window

I know you mean well
When you create hell
With your meanderings.

Slip sliding away
Enough justice for today
A little incrementalism
In a pool of blood
Surely that will suffice.

I know you mean well
When you go all opaque and blurry
Too much horror
Just goes and breaks people
This is true.

And we don’t do well
Without a bit of joy from time to time
We tribal critters
A bit of pretense comes easy
Anything to keep it together
What with how it’s always falling apart
These little realities we
Cultivate.

What goes up, must come down
You are starting to melt
Your glass drips and distorts
You are falling, window
As all glass must in the end

Your tempering
Is failing
You are
becoming sand.

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