Find not a lot of comfort
In errands requiring a fill
Of labour and patience
Hold on, dreamer; hold on still
Sleep eludes the curios mind
On stoic, serene mornings
For peace is a cliche
Do not let peace prevail
Songs of passion are fewer
Than the lullabies of love
That pour an eternal sleep
Into the eyes of the disturbed
Madness is the only sense
That could ever be drawn
Madness grants an equality
To the right and the wrong
Every book on the shelf
Will and can not be read
Owing to bulky existence
Or simple lack of interest
But nothing kills life like lie
One that goes unrealised
In hardbound or paperback
Like general, mediocre reprise
-K.G.
No comments:
Post a Comment