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Can you see it coming
Sprouting through the buried soil
From the seed you unknowingly sow

Can you catch it as it grow
Spreading tender leaves green
Feeding on your sinister thoughts

Can you nip it off, can you?
before the sapling gains ground
Jealousy... Spreading its roots
We are frail
But could be stout
We are patient
But could be tired
We are deep
But could turn shallow
Rather true
But pick the fraud fellow.
Whoever we are
Are carved from jolts
Which heart embraces
And grabs then stitches.
But when the *****
Had too much dinge
And no more yarn
Left to sew the bits,
This marred love
Will become dust
For a weeping man
To succumb in scruple.
I waited...and I waited

But I never got that phone call
The one that I have been waiting for all day
Just to hear your voice
To hear the reason why

Why you chose to end us
Why you chose to stop loving me
Why you chose to throw away something of significance

But instead...I get a text
 Jun 2015 Paige Wood
W. H. Auden
A shilling life will give you all the facts:
How Father beat him, how he ran away,
What were the struggles of his youth, what acts
Made him the greatest figure of his day;
Of how he fought, fished, hunted, worked all night,
Though giddy, climbed new mountains; named a sea;
Some of the last researchers even write
Love made him weep his pints like you and me.

With all his honours on, he sighed for one
Who, say astonished critics, lived at home;
Did little jobs about the house with skill
And nothing else; could whistle; would sit still
Or potter round the garden; answered some
Of his long marvellous letters but kept none.
This twisted existence is beginning to push my limits.
I've had enough of life I only strive to see it finished.
No matter how I try the timeline won't diminish;
I guess I'm meant to stick around for more than just a minute.

It sickens me to watch as old friends depart the earth,
As I'm left to sit and ponder on life and what it's worth.
It's hard to carry onward with this never ending search,
while other men just wander in apparent ceaseless mirth.

— The End —