Caliphate Walls

Am on all fours

upon broken caliphate walls

they say time is timing

but the hour hand is fractured

and am aching from all these chores

my pride became nothing by the pain it endures

is an imperfect picture still worth a thousand words?

am that bamboo stick

in a weather for the weak

I must admit

my clock don’t tick

and to everything I call divine

so dark and thick

am lost but not stolen

am bending but not broken

a paper marché with not enough glue

white and red with not enough blue

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