Weeping
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In deep of night, I sink into pain’s hell
That fingers bang heavily without calm,
Where staring violets cannot foretell,
How near or far I'll be from sorrow’s harm.
While flickers of stars descend on relay
My newborn child lies cold, grim buds prevail,
And breaths endure the ache from evening’s slay
Questioning heaven, I begin to wail.
And as I droop wearily in bent form,
This flat-line succumbs to reality,
While beads of prayer clatter like a storm
Angst rising, my jailed heart a misery.
Contest of Eve Roper: Second Chance N/A May 2016
Posted 5/23/2016
Resubmitted 6/3/2016
Copyright © Nette Onclaud | Year Posted 2016
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