Brown Bess

O ye of many faces, whose stumbles seal the coffin
A bloom to bring the latest 'cause trials shed too often

In whispers fake an orchard, affection just like coughing
Belies the lately tortured; can’t hide or make it soften

The mask you kept eliding grows warped in its concealing
Its grin I fight abiding despite an endless healing

This risk entails some chances; pulse flutters utter their name
Approaching through the branches, heatstroke blurs the barrel’s aim

Ears ring