Oblivion
Hurling toward oblivion we go
Down! Down the rabbit hole, hear soft whispers
White furry lies and long in the whiskers
We’re all mad here but only for show
So drink the potion we've sold our soul for
we can not turn back the clock has now stopped
On off beaten path we've ran, skipped, and hopped
Make yourself shrink, fit the ideal door
Wild tea parties, bags gathering like storms
We play many grey parts, some tragedies
Our logic false, perform dark comedies
Cold dread ripens to soothe hearts as it warms
Crawling up the wellspring a leaking sink
We soon perish, gone in a flash, a blink
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Now I meant this to be a sonnet, but I've not quite mastered iambic pentameter
Copyright © A.E. Rivenbark | Year Posted 2014
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