Solution For Your Self Contempt
This harsh light, back on you
Piercingly cruel aimed
Is of no sun, though it burns
In heart, as hot yes?
And however thickly
Shaded, walled off are
For protection, there's just no
Hung bough, cloister, right?
Unless counter-eying bright!
Love's, for that loveless!
Copyright © James Watkin | Year Posted 2023
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