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How to Kill A Dragon Slayer

By: Dino

Page 1, This is a poem about my time spent in New Orleans.

Beneath the live oaks
in the green vegetation
of old New Orleans
in a place where
the bells and whistles
of commerce
are memories of an ancient
time
a warm breeze blows
off of the
mississippi.

I recall days spent
with friends loved and
friends lost
and nights on bourbon.
I was a different person then.
Barely a man
and in reflection
innocent for the last time.

I had never lived like that
before nor do I believe
I will ever live like that
again.
Hot blood ran through my
veins and I could've
conquered the world and
there were times I thought
maybe I had.

It was a time when girls
were named after
flowers
and bars never closed.
A time when I never
closed.

It was a time before
alarm clocks and
dead ends
and safety nets
and bills.
A time when my legs
had the strength to
hold the weight of
the world
on my broad shoulders.

I feel narrower now
and cynical.
I chose reality over
dreams
and the weight of the world
shifted and broke my back
and buckled my legs.

My eyes are older now
and broken
and can no longer look forward
no,
now they can only look
back.

Back to times when I slayed
dragons and could drink all night
in celebration
and love like my life
depended on it.

Now I see

the irony is that

it did.

 

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