Skeleton’s Truth

Only in the last breaths of midnight do the truths reveal
An ivory ribcage, dirty with elegance
Demanding recognition be paid to each cracked bone
And looking into these blue eyes, pupils pulsating with one’s heartbeat
The effects are fading, visual trickery seeking solace in the shadows
The skeleton holds dear, its frail shape standing tall
With those shaky breaths, life’s fragility hangs in the balance
And no matter your next decision, you will be standing
But only with a willpower earned
Can one seek to move each muscle encasing your physique
Or to guide fibrous connections towards a needed end

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