A thin tin milagro heart,
pressed
and put to use,
prayed over and smoked;
worn out in task and time.
A silly sentiment
strewn about,
pushed and pulled,
stretched
to meaninglessness.
A gilded ideal,
blinding and gaudy,
revered as solid;
but a pot-metal bauble
lightly masked.
What a folly,
or is it a jest?
All pieces are newly crafted and posted shortly after in adherence to the rules of the challenge. All the photos are mine unless otherwise stated.
Entry for Day 86 of 100 Days of Poetry Challenge by @d-pend.
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