Plagiarized - Nothing New
Along the pilgrimage path
life purged and plundered
minds wept and wondered
weeds steadfastly grew
knowing not what we now knew
weary travelers groaned and grumbled
stepping cross wayward stones, tumbled
some had stumbled or even fell
seeking separate stories to tell
ink driven, dried up, cursed, then forgiven
bent in half, twisted, some curved
tales told, valient bold and self served
where whispers turned and ran
down along side stolen scripts
falling elegantly off loose lips
masses cheered the absurd
romantic scenes poetically heard
death defied and defiled
joyous celebration in a time
infectious an emancipation
liberated through rhyme lest relief
"To weep is to make less the depth of grief."
Copyright © Tim Smith | Year Posted 2018
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