who am i to trespass here
in the driveway of all that is sacred and this road has come to an end
where the water meets the sand
castles eroding like hope washed in a hushed whisper
we return like natives taking back the promised land
reflecting on the bent trees and blood-stained knees and apocalyptical memories
asleep in the hammock overlooking the shoreline, an unvisited tree fort
constructed with neon shoelaces and duct taped as a last resort
to keep the family together
who am i to trespass here
in the moonlight we have come back to the start
circling back to saint judy's heart
like a ring on a finger with no beginning and no ending
no more secrets, no more pretending
we stand at the edge of the driveway
prodigals returning to the celebration
and the older brother is pissed.
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