borax

Sighs in tones that draw tears from tears in the soul,

groanings and utterances, dronings and observances,

dolorous and obsequious qualities are rent in twain,

torn and shredded are they and not without pain,

she cries out, “let it stop and forget my face!”,

you who spend your efforts trying to erase,

lost things, refuse, beyond your level of comprehension,

words and ways that you oppose in your apprehension,

failing to realise that we are but an extension of,

brutal things, yes, and terse means too; but love,

while wrapped in burlap she grows yet dwindles in this cocoon,

fails to rise till after noon,

for sunlight flies to scorch and burn,

through truth and lies as some don’t learn,

like Cerberus, they bind you to Hades a beggar and a pawn,

and use your fears, your strength and spawn,

soon enough, with open eyes,

common roads and futile lies,

they subside for butterflies,

off they float in lightened skies,

hate is lost, though necessary,

finding faith during it’s query,

she will reign though voices carry,

jovial, exuberant; not weary wary.

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