It's a tragedy of confusion,
With mingled remorse of sorts.
The doubtful few were weary,
Though soulful were their souls.
It's a barbaric camaraderie
The loved ones, unloved; far
Holy was their affinity,
Though, always from afar.
It's the ache of a new dawn,
Light piercing by heart's frost.
Blighted innocence, little was left
So much of yesteryear was lost !
It's a gentle trudge to unknown,
Handful do make it past noon,
Yearning to stop by, admire it all
Hath stopped so many too soon !
It's the night owl's sharp screech,
Attempting cordiality with the dark,
It was wise and could fathom,
What busy bees never could hark !
It was a beautiful endeavour of sorts,
Trudging of life, and it's miseries,
As nubile squires don the cloak
To try get over the long night !
Apr 22, 2020
Apr 22, 2020 at 4:13 PM UTC
It's a tragedy of confusion,
With mingled remorse of sorts.
The doubtful few were weary,
Though soulful were their souls.
It's a barbaric camaraderie
The loved ones, unloved; far
Holy was their affinity,
Though, always from afar.
It's the ache of a new dawn,
Light piercing by heart's frost.
Blighted innocence, little was left
So much of yesteryear was lost !
It's a gentle trudge to unknown,
Handful do make it past noon,
Yearning to stop by, admire it all
Hath stopped so many too soon !
It's the night owl's sharp screech,
Attempting cordiality with the dark,
It was wise and could fathom,
What busy bees never could hark !
It was a beautiful endeavour of sorts,
Trudging of life, and it's miseries,
As nubile squires don the cloak
To try get over the long night !
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