Fairy Tales

The fairy tales are cowed when fallen from the crowd mucked upon the milieu of hunger as if their gods are deaf and deaden either. The patterns of living flicking down deep Seem to have gone to the dust distorted A dismal moment as I peeved back Deflecting Into their bitten tones Still a violence against the time dishonored Reasoned and resourced yet dismayed The fossils in its dead grave flinting the fire As if quietly meditating and submerged As they have never been quivered as before the time fallen from the crowd yet unscathed ridden by the rain as demurred beyond the vale As if the fairy tale of raved up undertones heard in nursery days yet unraveled bleating and rasping within out of aspiration dislodged unassumingly in totality