I longed, I do promise you, for a cool
To drag my cries away, for I am fool.
A kind fool, should I dare mention?
Perhaps, the ego deserves slight attention.
I cross paths with a sort of polite ache
And I feel dejected by the time I wake
With the ache clutching awful entrails
Passionately burning! Oh hear my wails!
Ennui, do caress me more softly!
I deserve your sympathy, ever so fondly.
Monstrous you might be at times, I know,
But there is eternal bliss for you to show.
Poetry loves the smoking words, the agony,
I do wonder why it delights over a malady.
The secret of it, however, is essential,
As boredom plays a part in the quintessential.
YOU ARE READING
His Name Was...
PoetryEverybody can write. We often explore our emotions and explore the depths of our heart to discover what we truly feel. Misery. Pain. Joy. Ecstasy. But, once baffled with the world, what emotions will you truly choose? In this journey, a simple chara...
