Mèparend


Allow me this instance
To excorcise the hell within
For the ever so binding
And ever so blinding
Do hold my weary heart;
It suffers and weighs heavy
In its pivital parts,
Alas, one cannot steady.

Locked in a slick environment,
Covered in layers of meaty cement;
The faint beating dies out
As time comes about.

A mind so fragile and vast,
Do one’s thoughts dance
Through a valley of chance?
Could this be what tales call
‘The world we live in’?
Perhaps, maybe,
Such thoughts, so changing,
So implicit;

A life of a man had bestowed upon
Many treasures that are now gone.

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