Wordle #263


I enter the blessed count,
there is nothing left
but to commemorate.
You mustn’t welcome
my apologies they are poison.

I carry a wooden cross
in the place of a heart.
My smile is a brush
sweeping and scouring
your fine woolly sneer.

I am only a girl
spinning plates.
I am missing parts
but of my misfortune
I have made an art.

If I were free
I would not betray myself so often.
I would turn my hands
up to the sky and take hold
of all that is boundless and unseen.