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My body is the tomb in which I buried my faith, A wraith of youth’s ideals to whom I pledge my fate. This bitterness cries out to the city’s faded stars; Light drowning light, drowning like an open scar. We seek solace in the bonds we have forged from our longing, Yet words breed more words and we are found wanting. How may I defy Providence’s contempt? To take death’s dance and elude all discontent.
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Jun 23, 2019
Jun 23, 2019 at 10:36 AM UTC
I Loathe to Look Ahead
My body is the tomb in which I buried my faith, A wraith of youth’s ideals to whom I pledge my fate. This bitterness cries out to the city’s faded stars; Light drowning light, drowning like an open scar. We seek solace in the bonds we have forged from our longing, Yet words breed more words and we are found wanting. How may I defy Providence’s contempt? To take death’s dance and elude all discontent.
jack-ingrouille
Written by
22/M/London
Jun 23, 2019
Jun 23, 2019 at 10:36 AM UTC
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