For the hundredth time
She drives the hammer down
And pulls it back again.
Four and twenty lives she's lived
Each one the same and paling.
"There's truth to this", she thinks.
Truth in every shattering blow
As needles fly and nerves twitch.
Ten again. Ten again.
And fifty throws of the dice.
A life, a knife, a boat and chain.
The water shrinks and slaps
But she stands like an iceberg,
Cracked, but gleaming.
WhatWhyHow???
This year, I set myself the foolish task of trying to write something every day, and what you see here is the result. None of this is finished, polished, or in any way good. It's usually a few lines at the end of the day when I'm tired, my head's broken, and this nonsense spills out of it onto the page. Feel free to comment away, and if you think anything has any potential then let me know and I might have a go at working on it further.
But hang on, where's the first month? You've ripped us off! I hear you say... Well, yes. I have been writing since the beginning of January, but it's taken me a while to get the blog up, so everything here is a month old.
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