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that lonely lad’s
deserving fates
now come at last
but much too late
one gentle heart
beats full of love
still, no one feels
that’s worthy of
their admiration
thoughts or time
and thus he’s left
to barter rhymes
delivering phrase
dreams arbitrate
life’s feelings, be
they love or hate
it’s nothing special
just these thrums
his lover’s dreams
as kingdom comes
and so folks fawn
o’er what he pens
while deep inside
those bitter ends
the bloody words
then let as phrase
shall clot in pools
with empty days
for all that purge
his scribbles find
is washed like ids
or muddled mind
and crafting prose
that coaxes sighs
births, deep within
his slow … demise.
Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden, August 13, 2017; rewrite, August 27, 2022
Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden | Year Posted 2023
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