Monday, March 16, 2009

Bitchfest 1

When midst the clanging and the sound, I find
My words are brought before most unkind judge
I find that my company hath maligned
My care from that of Kings to Fools. I trudge
An aching path with no reward. Losing
Faith. It is with envy I view those on
A more mundane path. I weep, for falling
On such wretched times. I must be withdrawn.
Still, at these points of no compare there’s joy
Oh, yet to be found. I can think of none
No gem nor luxury that can deploy
Such love in my heart that can’t be undone.
So though darkness sometimes will soft call
For your love I would, with joy, forsake all.

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