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More from Sinrith
Are you ready to confess, I wonder, that you're a tragic mess,
That the cane you lean upon so heavily is truly named Excess,
And though you wield it deftly and can fake yourself upright,
It leads you down a darker path straight into endless night.
Probably not, aye, for drunkenness is a power,
A place to hide, like an old world keep or the crown of a tall tower,
Yet locked away up there, behind battlements of glass and ice,
You miss so much looking down from those heights of vice.
This is a waste of effort isn't it?
Of course it is, you're one with the pit,
When it kills you is when you'll quit,
Bah you hear me not, enough of this.
That the cane you lean upon so heavily is truly named Excess,
And though you wield it deftly and can fake yourself upright,
It leads you down a darker path straight into endless night.
Probably not, aye, for drunkenness is a power,
A place to hide, like an old world keep or the crown of a tall tower,
Yet locked away up there, behind battlements of glass and ice,
You miss so much looking down from those heights of vice.
This is a waste of effort isn't it?
Of course it is, you're one with the pit,
When it kills you is when you'll quit,
Bah you hear me not, enough of this.
Category Poetry / All
Species Unspecified / Any
Size 50 x 50px
File Size 895 B
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