Wems Henry Temmy Psalm 57
I cry at the middle of some nights
When loneliness couldn't bear fights
The roaring silence dare not claim rights
For each time trouble shoots, brings frights
Oh lovely and dying moment, benights
All through, I couldn't hear my voice
Yet, my environ is living in solemn noise
And my muses are my best convoys
Regulating my pen safety and turquoise
To bleeding in a sensational poise
For each time I try to console my wailing
I never get to back out the thrill failing
Of free from the captured thoughts assailing
In its swing up down; left right detailing
Young yonder mountain's view; echoes ailing
It seems like a mile away from being true
Just and brilliant ideas for closed eyes anew
Busy and jestful logics for open minds off clue
Yet open eyes and closed minds couldn't bid adieu
For the fuse of hue lights the night's glue
With every single tide I can't wait to turn
Gets rough to handle with care to yearn
The aesthetic value of what to learn
Honor and grace of its nominal fee to earn
How consistently it has been over struggling concern
For my permission to stamp and burn to ashes
The treasured supposedly not caches
Trying my hardest time to open my eyelashes
Making out ever unbearable rashes
Which I have got to cope with; everyday clashes
There is no need to trace memory lane
For joy lies not in past glory once attained
Unless pleasure cripples to sleep profound brain
Definitely strength has never for once ascertained
Reason mind experience such nice insane--
To win struggle in loneliness via courage
Killing fear of death living in rage
Needs and desires dwelling in Cambridge
What dreams in light heals and envisage
With time to become true cum noble heritage
Gear fear in fair hearing from my solemn mind
Oh lord, kindly hear my cry foaming blind
Through nature explicit sins undefined
Before fate goes out of hand unkind
To win the lottery of cruel worth enshrined
Night has been the compassionate judge
The transforming cookie of fortune storage
Dishing out in abundance when mercy nudge
That even when sins; pure ones hold grudge
Grace pace form the unrelenting smudge
Mornings are my advocate-- reliable lawyer
That pen down the tush street warrior
Those who have been true naysayers
And honestly good and loyal surveyor
Let me say "well done the ball players"
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