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Grief-BinderArcua The aria of the wallow
Looms over those who follow
The crucible’s folly.
Grievances within un-numbered.
The blinding of melancholy,
the stench of un-remembered.
Must we always default to a blade?
Existence-asserted-by-violence,
I will make another way,
For my nemesis is my own senescence,
willed to seek beauty in a coalescence.
Category Poetry / All
Species Unspecified / Any
Size 50 x 50px
File Size 25.3 kB
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