Thee Ending Succom To Me
True is the Bloom of the
Flower's . . .
More whatever will, be turned
to dust,
I find myself, longing, exumed,
because of thy precepess of Doom
& thy will, will be undone . . . . . .
So Dead, I roam, thee will
be done, unravelled to me . . . a
thoughtless entity, roaming . . .
with . . .
. . . Me
Alone I must teach In need, others
Copyright © Matthew Rozon | Year Posted 2018
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