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Sequestered May 2016
Thou, the bequeather of this birth to death,
In whom thou exhale human existence;
Born from suckling to thy laying of wreath,
None will exist without thine own essence.

Like a winding stairway on lone twisted aisle,
Ascending as stream of crystal rays unknown;
From whence within every mile will worth the while,
Or every turn a test to trump on its own.

Through thy shadowy paths of this sojourn,
Whence thy fate must embrace her scripted end;
From thence thy dim at dawn from morn will mourn,
When death's dark depth will be thine to descend.

Why hast thou begotten thine humanity?
Whom on her own knows not what tomorrow holds;
Save this moment, not whence lies eternity,
Waiting to unfold wonders yon yet untold...

But only in thee, O' life is reality known;
My past, like morning dew forever faded away,
But my now I must walk and own; never to disown,
To that future I'm fated to venture into faraway...

And when this yond my stairs appear no more,
Whence immortality becomes as reality;
Will my soul, eternity swallows in her allure,
Or in pain of purgatory; or perpetual insanity?
Jimmy Solanki Feb 2014
Naturally you wonder
Why gravity pulls on us
Why insanity asunder
That dastardly love
Makes you and I, Us

That dark rain
Separation down the street
Still is, yet I wonder
How I got to remember
How I got up to my feet

Naturally I wonder
Why the heart beats
Optimistic bequeather
It still hopes and beats
Where the aurora sleeps

They came marching for Us
They hated what we had
They came marching for Us
They wanted us to flee
Flee for all we had
Ryan O'Leary Jun 2019
That's it, we have finally
discovered that Trump
is a scrambled dyslexic.

H.M.S and N.H.S. being
drone clones of the same
hive, Queen bequeather.

What he meant is that he
was going to privatise the
Monarchy, No Horse ****.

— The End —