Take a sip of bitter tea,

searching for normality,

tears like bullets face do strafe,

depth charging my bathyscaphe,

when sorrows outweigh will to live,

I pray the Lord my death to give,

a sodden tramp,

a wounded stud,

a broken camp,

a bath of blood,

nacre formed from wounds within,

tried so hard I’m wearing thin,

Gaunt and Haggard are my names,

tired of playing silly games,

hair disheveled,

tongue is dry,

field not leveled,

life’s a lie,

this torrid desert bears no fruit,

all we do is less than moot,

if life’s a trial hang the judge,

one less burden, one more grudge.



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