Peace is an abandoned playground swing
swinging gently in the night breeze
as each gust of wind tries to envelope it,
break it off it's rusty hinges,
and carry it away.
Yet every time is buffers and bats
creaking restless melodies
that no ear can quite understand.
Once that swing was wanted
yearned and desired
now it's stuck
forever swaying in the breeze.
It is my opinion that you did an excellent job in creating a story in regards to your metaphor, "Peace is an abandoned playground swing." The following structure of your poem encompasses the perfect scence of what you are metaphorically portraying.
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