A sneaking grievance
You unearth once more
The stoic's solemn creed
I delight to ignore.
Unfold before me
But don't stain this morning
With ashen, dour curtains
O'er my opalesce sea.
Call to me kindly
With sheathed forked tongue
Allow contented silence
'Till glossy eyes grow dumb.
Howling deceptions
Devastate the calm
A drunkard's demand hollers
And hurries me out the door.
Bottles seem treasures
To the gold that they bury
A slow, sullen, sinking,
The perfumed poisons won.
Roads offer relief, reeling
With the world's turning over
Fate resealed
I till the ground anew.
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Realms
PoetryA collection of poetry of all the good and bad things. © All rights reserved.