The curse (that was many times worse)

The curse (that was many times worse)

When an oath
and a promise,
had been turned
in reverse,
from faith and hope,
to curse and to cuss,
ways to cut up a word,
and make it all kinds of worse.
From the brightest of colors,
and of speech ever heard.
Shoveled over with gravedirt,
necrofied words,
always spoken, but never really meant,
but therefore—–
twice much as stronger,
as when they first had been heard.

‘Twas their original oath,
turning all over,
among blood
and unspeakable names.
Faith rolling over,
until they belieiving now in nothing,
(nothing) but death.

That’s what they all hoped:
to one day delay,
with just this one word.
The one sad
and whispered,
always there, on their lips.
For(n)ever spoken.
Pleasepleaseplease! take it back!
But we can never be so sure,
if any thing, is even too late,
to ever really reverse.
“For life moves
in only this one direction…”
That’s what they said.

“But it is never too late,
to become un-cursed…”
That’s what many had hoped.

So they took one bite
of that glorious apple,
and they prayed
to something darkly,
now, only in reverse.

Never sure, if it all would work,
how to un-curse
their own selves
from many things, even worse.
Than their own fall.

But someone made another
kind of curse,
to cover things over,
and made almost every word
into some kind of curse.

So, soon,
they could only hear
just one curse
when they were speaking and breathing
and every step that they took
had to be made in reverse.

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