Loss Divine
From the mangled chaos of the lines
Emerge strange forms and all too telling tales
O life satanic and O loss divine
Faces will make then themselves, define
From the compost and the deathly rail
And the mangled chaos of the lines
There is never reason nor a rhyme
As Jonah found when sucked in by a whale
O life satanic and o loss divine
What is living but a life of crime?
Whether trained in Borstal or at Yale
Feel the mangled chaos of the lines
We wander, having leaders well outgrown
Some days it is hell and we just crawl
O life satanic and o loss divine
I believe, in bitterness and gall,
We must hold our spirits as they fall
Dark the mangled chaos of our lives
O love satanic and O loss divine
Copyright © Katherine Braithwaite | Year Posted 2018
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