A Beacon

Despised like the legends of avarice,
You are tobacco in the throat of a giant,
A horse in a coat of barbed wire,
An oak tree whose roots tickle land mines,
The ecstasy of betrayal made good.

You are the result of mistakes in a storm,
The horns of wild Vikings on coastlines,
The disgust of a huge mirror broken,
The stench of fresh bones in a forest fire burning,
A beacon of bleakness and greed.

Poetry.net

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