(For Virginia)
Content anxiety, the hours peel away like the skins of an onion
Sticky, infinity, tempering emotions like ingredients melded
and rolling and creating something new.
The past has its relevance to those who don't see
and the future's open promise incurs penalties for those without
certiorari of what is real and what is impaired, imparted.
I smile, content in my footsteps, and knowing that half the battle
is the other half of truth, and the two sides to every story
do soon diverge when the soothsayer and the storyteller
learns she alone is fooled, save for the other hopeless fools.
Virginia Justice counts herself among them, despite her blindness
the scales are no longer applied here, her voice is silent.
A sad day for someone realizing her impending, obvious irrelevance.
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