Poetry: And It Came To Pass

It came to pass
A while after there was a lass
The damsel grew a sass
Now ‘we’ is dead. Alas!

It came to pass,her eyes, soft hazel.
Mouth, egg bagel.
Lips, faded chuckle.
Brakes, back paddle.

It came to pass, the past crawled into the future.
The mistakes are yesterday’s, tomorrow’s is the torture.
A man may walk on his hands but cannot rob nature
Pour backwards the debris of time so future may find a cure.

It came to pass, when I became a crevasse
painted to be words and poems for each class.
I started from the scratch, trust me I was the grass.
When they called me metal, I chose to be a brass

…it came to pass, brittle little pack of mass
Gathered to hide and ride behind time
Smirking, teasing her in arrogant pantomime
Before kneeling to the healing swish of grass.

It came to pass
Like time and gas
That he fed on anything but grass
This good for nothing ass!

It came to pass as I swore
Never to be a whore
Seductive garments I wore
The religious bodies gave an eye sore

It came to pass, sadness hovers my sinister thoughts
Darkness ties my deceptive knots
Connecting sacred dots
Yet I’ll cast salient lots…

And it came to pass in a sequence,
Each stage marked a difference,
By passing all with no preference,
Still my journey made perfect sense.

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