It wasn’t different.
When the bile came
In tumult fad ,
Like tidal menses
Seeking freedom off
Of a busy courtesan
In fear of dollar losses.

Those flying fiery arrows
Destined to rib corner
To shatter little life left
But that bow took it no further,
When the poison dripped off
At the base of the quiver
Blunting its fierceness
Unceremoniously slowing down
Its discernment…

To death.

Then after it all set
Beyond the horizon
Of aches
Launched victory English
Through lips from the heart
Every reaction coded festival
To mark end of era
And beginning of another.