Tragedy strikes a bitter chord
If tragedy, it is
Disinterest in the worldly hoard
A complacent, deadly kiss
It lulls my very soul to sleep
At the beginning of each day
I pray the Lord my soul to keep
But to whom do I truly pray
Rest in Peace, my Love, my Call
Don’t make a fitful sound
Death to one and death to all
Until Silence is crowned
A harsh tone from the lips of Love
Petrifies me in place
I ask myself, “Am I enough?”
And the world responds with, “Checkmate.”
I have forsaken my very words
By allowing them to cease
Feeding Salvation to the birds
With furrowed brow in deeper crease
So now my throat is parched and stale
From my traitorous inaction
Remove the bride and tear the veil
Throw away your capacity for satisfaction
I like to end with a tone
That speaks of a hopeful news
But here, I’ve stood all alone
Without my neglectful muse
Wonderfully written, December Rose.
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Thank you so much 🙂
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