The dead poet falls distinctively

Silent with his mind at rest

His heart & soul have separated

Leaving society at arms to obtain reality

Before his beauty is lost eternally

To the Earths sweet marrow.



The snow spreads it's blanket of disease

To ensure the common sheep's aspiring

For winter has arrived in full force

To isolate us from the only cure -

An untimely sun rising slow

Leaves us to wake with the stars.