What if smiling moon
Is brighter than the sun?
And the flakes of tumoil tend
To vile when fully regatherd
While i tame time my fab
I extricate by the vast drab
Of quality i fade for emptyness
The knobs of metaphor was
Red-hot and fickle fame flies
Off the vicinity of restless
Scimiter..ALAS! vile scimiter
Chill. Hot. Hate and lover
They all colide and positive
Wands lost the clasp of
Magical influence
Categories:
scimiter, anger,
Form: Rhyme