"pities" poems
My Insomnia is a ****
He keeps me up at night and keeps the end of my bed warm.
When the sun sets and the moon comes up, I should be dreaming of soft things or wacky situations that could never happen.
But instead, I'm trapped here, with my Insomnia at the foot of my bed, keeping me on my phone.
My Insomnia is a patient man.
I've tried, believe me, to ignore him. I've laid for hours in my bed, wrapped up in blankets.
I've counted thousands of sheep, let them hop to and fro from my bed to the door.
But he shoos them away when they get to close.
My Insomnia is a jealous man.
He doesn't like Sleep and her warm and gentle touches. He favors his cold and sharp hands.
He doesn't let her take me until he's had me to the sunrise, where I should be waking now instead of sleeping.
He keeps me until my eyes are stinging and I'm all but begging to be released. He let's go only because he'll return at the end of the day when the sun sets and the moon rises.
My Insomnia keeps me in a prison.
I can't see the night progress through the blanket I've hung up on my window, as a makeshift curtain to keep the sun out of my eyes as I sleep the day away.
The night pities me and the day yearns for me. My friends wait for me and my sisters lose patience as I miss out on plans. My grandma worries for me, and pulls me from the gentle embrace of sleep.
My Insomnia is a cruel man.
He keeps me chained to my phone and my computer, to the horrors of my mind as I only seek relief through sleep.
The chains used to cut when I was eleven and so exhausted and so confused when he had first graced the end of my bed.
But now, when I'm edging into eighteen, I'm only tired and defeated. I can only let him run his course, and wait for school to arrive so I can imprison him with sugar-coated pills bought over the counter.
My Insomnia is an *******
For even as I drift off in the warm arms of Sleep, I can see him drifting above my bed.
He whispers promises to return at the end of the day, to which he always does, to torment and keeps me awake until my eyes burn.
To keep me awake until I regret everything and burn in memories that resurface when the sun has gone away, and Sleep can't protect me.
My Insomnia has an iron grip on me, that not even Sleep can break as I rest in her golden arms and breathe in her strawberry hair.
My Insomnia is a spoiled man.
And he always gets what he wants.
Jul 1, 2019
Jul 1, 2019 at 4:58 PM UTC
*Through the incredulity burning
in the grim reaper's eyes,
He unwillingly received the souls
of those who did not deserve to die
...
The bright fluids of life lay bare
and insignificant in the godforsaken lands
He sighed the heaviest breath he could muster
Death was his trade, but this affair had him
loosening his grip on the scythe
Mumbling the dead's prayer,
The half-living defied fate's ruthless threads
And squirmed for barren hope
A child nearby cries for the light to save him
As the shadows devoured their youngest feast, so far
Now standing alone, the reaper cursed the gods
Who may or may not be listening to him
He was disgusted with the greed of these people
And their bloodbaths
Where those who avoid death and the
ones who thrillingly seek it
Summon each other with empty excuses
Thinking these are enough to fling
their guns at the righteous
Drink the innocent blood like
the finest wine from their vineyards!
Stab the weak at their remaining spots
Oh how foolish they are!
How foolish indeed!
He pities those who speak death as their honor
When they have only lived like rats
Scavengers of chances that purifies
their filthy names
He scorns those who
do not even speak of death
In their wild belief that some curse
will hand them like a platter to their graves
When death is the end that no one ,
not even him, can escape
Those cowards!
No one lives to cheat that dark fate!
No one!
The reaper was provoked by humans
Them and their incessant wonder and fear of
That that is unknown
Them who have stopped looking
at their small, definite lives
To anticipate what they could not
even begin to understand
Feeding their illusions that a special place
awaits their petty souls to rest on
Ahhh!!!He was tired of them all
Might as well finish his job...*
May 11, 2015
May 11, 2015 at 5:44 PM UTC
of all the things i've ever loved
you deserve it most,
and i am inadequate.
if drinking's a sin
and drugs are expensive
how am i to numb this?
i've never craved anesthesia
until tonight
school taught me about bones
but it never mentioned
how caged they would make me feel
i'm trapped in this body
restricted by the only thing that's truly mine
no one likes a broken mind
everyone pities the girl with scars
and i don't understand
why some are born happy
and others with a deathwish
and maybe i'm not meant
for this life
Sep 23, 2015
Sep 23, 2015 at 12:14 AM UTC
Oh, deem not they are blest alone
Whose lives a peaceful tenor keep;
The Power who pities man, has shown
A blessing for the eyes that weep.
The light of smiles shall fill again
The lids that overflow with tears;
And weary hours of woe and pain
Are promises of happier years.
There is a day of sunny rest
For every dark and troubled night;
And grief may bide an evening guest,
But joy shall come with early light.
And thou, who, o'er thy friend's low bier,
Sheddest the bitter drops like rain,
Hope that a brighter, happier sphere
Will give him to thy arms again.
Nor let the good man's trust depart,
Though life its common gifts deny,--
Though with a pierced and broken heart,
And spurned of men, he goes to die.
For God has marked each sorrowing day
And numbered every secret tear,
And heaven's long age of bliss shall pay
For all his children suffer here.
2.7k
God has pity on kindergarten children,
He pities school children -- less.
But adults he pities not at all.
He abandons them,
And sometimes they have to crawl on all fours
In the scorching sand
To reach the dressing station,
Streaming with blood.
But perhaps
He will have pity on those who love truly
And take care of them
And shade them
Like a tree over the sleeper on the public bench.
Perhaps even we will spend on them
Our last pennies of kindness
Inherited from mother,
So that their own happiness will protect us
Now and on other days.
2.6k
My song shall bless the Lord of all,
My praise shall climb to His abode;
Thee, Saviour, by that name I call,
The great Supreme, the mighty God.
Without beginning or decline,
Object of faith and not of sense;
Eternal ages saw Him shine,
He shines eternal ages hence.
As much when in the manger laid,
Almighty Ruler of the sky,
As when the six days' work He made,
Fill'd all the morning stars with joy.
Of all the crowns Jehovah bears,
Salvation is His dearest claim;
That gracious sound well pleased He hears
And owns Emmanuel for His name.
A cheerful confidence I feel,
My well placed hopes with joy I see;
My ***** glows with heavenly zeal,
To worship Him who died for me.
As man He pities my complaint,
His power and truth are all divine;
He will not fail, He cannot faint;
Salvation's sure, and must be mine.
2.5k
Bear me to Dictaeus,
and to the steep slopes;
to the river Erymanthus.
I choose spray of dittany,
cyperum, frail of flower,
buds of myrrh,
all-healing herbs,
close pressed in calathes.
For she lies panting,
drawing sharp breath,
broken with harsh sobs.
she, Hyella,
whom no god pities.
2.4k
Woke up this morning with an itch to write,
To put pen to paper,
To put height to flight.
Broken words for the good mans' soul,
I write to feel happy,
I write to feel whole.
Like an anxious athlete on a trendy diet,
I weigh-in to reflect.
I weigh-in to free an internal quiet.
Similar to an artist using brushes and paints,
I draw a paradise with fire,
I draw a hell with saints.
Feelings twist my fingers and toes,
Force me to write of worries,
Force me to write about woes.
These words are like screams,
They are my pain,
They are my extremes.
To think I only write of distress is utterly depressing,
There is also beauty in the world,
There is a myriad of issues far more pressing.
Yet given the chance I would write my worries away,
Save me another hour,
Save me another day.
I would wish for an eternity of bliss,
For everlasting love,
For time's abyss.
I could write about cities,
Filled with people and cars,
Filled with ruins and pities.
I'll sew you a quilt of all my fears,
Hoping no one realizes,
Hoping no one hears.
With this quilt I'd make my bed,
Rest on it with fluttery thoughts,
Rest on it with a heavy head.
And on it I'd cuddle with the quilt,
Wish away all the bad,
Wish away all the guilt.
For I know I could write for a hundred years straight,
Still have those debts,
Still have a tarnished slate.
Aug 28, 2012
Aug 28, 2012 at 6:31 AM UTC
In my dreams
I've kissed you
A couple hundred times
Melted into your embrace
And sank in your ocean eyes
In my dreams I have loved you
Like Romeo loved Juliet
Like Jack loved Rose
Like Elizabeth Loved Darcy
unconditionally
In my dreams
I am all yours
And you're all mine
In my dreams
We don't break apart when we fight
In my dreams
No matter how far we are
Our souls still collide
In my dreams
We had no worries
We had a happy life
In my dreams
We sipped wine and roses
watching the sun fall and rise
In my dreams
I could hold you
I could feel you
I could touch you
I could touch your soul
But lately
I've been losing sleep
I've been losing sleep
I tried taking pills
I tried counting sheep
But no matter how hard I try
They way back into love I can't find
Our love became like a puzzle missing a peice
And if I could i would burn all the puzzles I built when I was young to find a way back to you
I don't know if the fear of losing love means I love you
I don't know what's going on
Is it me
Is it you
Is it both of us
Is it the world
Or the wrong universe
What is going on with us
We were the two that the world watched in wonder
The world watches and pities our souls now
What is wrong with us
Why is this happening
And I swear if it was the universe
I would pull us into another universe
May god praise us the dandelions in love
But just like dandelions
We are delicate
And I guess the wind blew across both of us
So our pieces scattered
And I look and wonder
What has the wind wished for
My baby
May angels protect the dandelions
With there shinning wings
May we find the way to love
And if we don't
I'll always look at the picture of two dandelions blown away by the wind
And I'll smile
Because maybe that's how love begins
When the pieces scatter into a multiverse
And find you and me
Another you and me
Bless these two
May angels guard them
May they set history
For the two in love
The love that never breaks you see
And may the angels sing a sad song
For the two
Who
Fell out of love
Jan 21, 2019
Jan 21, 2019 at 1:33 PM UTC
A price that’s in the men shoes
He’s unclaimed and well schooled
Act his rhymes n’ mimic his friend too
Make him understand our sweeter shoo
Blend to been online with his touchy tools
Then play him around n' bring him to us too
Wherein he'll crave more for our added duties
A pleasure to bend n' subdue his struggling pities
And so you try to get me for all the monies n' fame
Hoping that my heart do cringe to the gains and aims
For in most man’s heart lies some greed n' impurities
But that testimony was short-sighted n’ less accurate
Dunamis and poverty - a borrower, the lender's slave
An experience to fail my rapture; a shameful swing
Which my hands cannot say – an immoral beauty
Whom my lips can not welcome; the school
The teacher - the minister
A princess n’ a bling
A frog as a king
He’s handsome
By gender
She's beautiful
in slander
A prince
An offender
A princess
The slanderer
The princess and a king
A soldier n’ a fling - a queen who’s ashamed
The offer that topped the shelf of supreme
That's us, both upside down and unclaimed
A soldier n’ a queen - a coward, a shame
The prince and a fling
A miss
A glamor
A mister
An amour
Unashamed
With clamor
Unmoved
By hammers
A miss in a glamour
A mister in an amour
The minister and a king
The majestic of single shoes
Who's keen to sense a moral beauty
Who sees the world as an interesting chaff
Dominate n' commoners; a sense of duty that
All must claimed from their individual combat
For in most men heart, here lies love n’ cruelty
To flamed the hearts n’ dance to pains n’ strife
So I sought to seize the life of love and Faith
To pursuit a walk of dreams n’ less blemish
Where little is important than odd duties
Like turn me around and teach me you
Teach me to see another man’s shoot
Make me enjoy that creepiness too
Shade my mind and my drink too
Cause I’m unclaimed n’ uncool
A vice that's in a male shoes
Jan 11, 2019
Jan 11, 2019 at 1:33 PM UTC
I curse the mind's divine plan
as I lay in valley's low
gazing upon myself a god
and a perfect smile aglow
whilst I toil in my misery
my soul tied with stones
my statue's likeness stands above
revolted at his lesser clone
Look at how he humbly gloats
His skin golden perfection
A mind more clear than unstained glass
A body crafted in circumspection
but though I pull my nails
with a revised renewed edition
with every labored detail
capturing perfection
this tortuous image
calms my heart
stabbing it with hope
for a better start
and I hear whispers in my valley
selling nectars of complacency
spinning truths from fantasy
of how I too one day may be
but as my hands try to summit
the hill soars ever higher
and my mind it pities me below
Remaining on my pyre
and my blood steams
and irrational rashes grow
as I come to realize
I'll forever remain below
Jul 14, 2019
Jul 14, 2019 at 1:48 AM UTC
"...And out of nowhere, she got sad and anti-social and wanted nothing more than to leave. It came out of nowhere, as it often does, and takes a while to leave. It especially likes to appear when certain depressants are involved, and when the memories of a better time begin to play in her mind.
The sight of them makes her stomach churn and all of her emotions turn sour. She then longs to find something -- anything -- as a distraction; she begins thinking of excuses to depart the loathed scene before her.
She pities herself, for continuing to feel hope. She dislikes herself for feeling misogynistic. She so desperately wants what she can't -- and seemingly never will -- have again. It kills her deeply to still feel these feelings after all this time.
Said feelings were supposedly detachable, so why not detach herself again?
It's always easier said than done."
Oct 2, 2011
Oct 2, 2011 at 8:28 PM UTC
It was written in the beginning, a beginning before Britain, before folklore, gore and war. A beginning then, when the lords created, decorated and separated the night and also the bright, bright light. Therefore, a delight! In the beginning, creating the seven ways of days and the rays. The birth of earth, the black ravens, the havens and the heavens. A beginning of clean slates, dreams, schemes and themes!
As I blink and wink, badly and sadly I think… An ending, with fate or an ending with no ascending or commending date? Let’s debate and negotiate! A beginning, of Pharaohs, their arrows and the sparrows. An ending of sorrow? A beginning, borrowed from our hour’s tomorrow? An ending, I deem, that forever bends, defends, depends, pretends and never, ever seems to end. The heavens specialties and
hell’s cruelties. Governments and their restraints! Negative and positive lengths and strengths. A beginning and an ending; betrayed and strayed, long before many of us were to play or say. Stories of cities, glories and their pities! Starving nations and Haitians! Expensive vacations and relations! The elapsed and relapsed! Perhaps, the mishaps and disruption of our corruption’s eruption and ending
destruction? Hey! I say, let’s turn a page past the basked, the masked and vast. A fold past the cages that enrage-rage, wage and old age.
The detained delights, the petty fights and plights. Why can’t we each reunite? Unite forever! Drop and stop this harm and fight. Fly into the night, together with our almighty arms and mighty charms. Primarily, in the beginning or ending, let us not negatively but too positively and ultimately amend! Children, men and women, amen.
Feb 8, 2012
Feb 8, 2012 at 8:18 AM UTC
Tell me when you feel the wind blow,
For I cannot feel it.
I see it bend the flowers stem,
And shake the mighty trees.
However I do not bend, or shake.
I think that I know what the wind is,
...But I am not sure.
…So tell me when you feel the wind blow.
Take my hand, that I might take yours,
For I cannot hold.
I can see the warm embrace,
And the lilting eyes that shine.
However I am not warmed, and mine eyes do not shine.
I think you need to hold, to feel the wind,
...But I’m not sure.
… So tell me when you feel the wind blow.
Speak, that I may speak
And I will tell you things.
I will talk of secret lives,
And how all the world is strange.
I think I need to speak to feel the wind,
...But I’m not sure,
… So tell me when you feel the wind blow.
I can only feel the wind,
When you tell me that it blows,
… And even then,
I do not truly feel it.
I play at life, and its uncanny ways,
It is the best I can do; so for pities sake
… Tell me when you feel the wind blow.
Jul 31, 2010
Jul 31, 2010 at 9:24 PM UTC
There’s nothing worse than a girl desperate for love:
A girl that pities herself enough to think she is so intrinsically broken
she couldn’t even connect with someone biologically destined to love her;
A girl stupid enough to learn that love is a reward that she must earn,
yet frantic enough to always work too hard for it;
A girl that overcompensates. Begs. Forces.
A girl that claims she ‘Doesn’t know what to do with love’
when it comes along, so that, naturally, she can smother it;
A girl who’s biggest fear is abandonment, yet is an expert on expecting too much;
A girl that’s waiting to be saved, but would tell you she doesn’t deserve it;
A girl that still obsesses over ways she has been bruised
when surrounded by people that have helped her heal;
A girl who’s self involved, with no sense of self;
A girl that cries. And cries. And cries.
There’s nothing worse than a girl desperate for love.
Feb 1, 2019
Feb 1, 2019 at 6:26 PM UTC
with shovel in hand,
I go to the back of the barn.
earth broken, I begin digging.
My heel driving into the shovel,
and tossing the remnants over my head.
As the anger subsides to a calmer demeanor,
I take a second to breathe.
sitting next to a tree fronting the purple and blue sky with scattered stars
he stares at me, not with sadness or pity,
but of curiosity.
What are you doing?
i ignore the cat and keep digging..
teeth tight against each other,
i dig until my arms are weak and
i can't see straight-- until my body trembles
Why? why do you continue to do this?
there is nothing down there for you.
looking down at my shovel, i pause and with a heavy breath;
There's nothing here for me anymore,
i gave this life a chance,
i found love-- i had dreams and i had life
i can't bare the disappointment anymore.
i'm done here
nothing satisfies me here
nothing
with hopeful intentions;
There's so much more to life than what you see before your eyes my friend
with a scowl, i look up
My time here is done, there's nothing more that i can do, i've given them everything i have
and i've gained nothing but misery, and hopelessness--
there's no sun to my moon,
my path ceases as dawn rises
i won't be a victim to life's cruel taunts anymore
a tear runs down the cat's soft face as he pities the stranger,
i begin digging again
with a brave intent, the cat speaks out of pure compassion;
I'm sorry you feel that way
if you let me hel---
with a swift movement, the digging ceases and
the shovel is thrown at the cat with lethal intent
terrified and frantic, the cat flees for his life.
after a far enough distance where the cat feels a brief sense of security,
the cat glances over his shoulder one last time with concern and worry,
only to see a black silhouette staring at the ground with a glistening speck falling from his face growing smaller as he continues to run.
the cat went back the next morning--
no one was there, just the shovel where it had landed the night before,
and a hole dug so deep, no light could find the end.
Apr 21, 2013
Apr 21, 2013 at 10:13 PM UTC
It’s been years since we dated
and I still remember the mixing taste
of your lips and that sweet *****
The bristles of my toothbrush have been bended
and I can still feel the ravishing flood of your flavor.
And every day, I visit the bathroom
to cleanse myself of the memory you
etched in my mind. You see,
*sometimes, four baths are not enough
to erase the stench you left on my skin;
sometimes, emptying the perfume bottle
won’t make any difference.*
The fogged mirror is whispering
that my cheek is still wearing
that imprint of your chapped lips
that I don’t remember you gave to me.
The shower walls are molding
and so is the bath tub;
*Sometimes, I forget how we bruised
each other’s body by slamming the other
against the wall.
Sometimes, I forget how we turned
a mere bathroom into a house
full of living.*
The drain is clogged again by the hair
I cut every day, and the room will flood
with rusted blood coming from the pipes of my broken body.
I know, you hid the soap
somewhere around the corners of my eyelids;
somewhere where the rats escape.
This is not about giving two *****
for a “Please, come back.”
This is not about begging pities,
under dim corner lights—No!
This is about washing a dirt filled face,
an overused ragdoll, with tears.
Aug 27, 2012
Aug 27, 2012 at 11:04 AM UTC
WISH I HAD ALL SEEING CATHODE RAY GOD VISION, DISCERN DYING LOVE IN YOUR SMILING EYES,
INDIFFERENCES GERMING, PITIES FORMING, WORMING UNCARES, WARMTHS IN HEARTS COOLING,
ELSE A SIGN, A ***** WITHER, EYES WRINKLE, AN OUT WARD SIGN YOU CHANGED, HATE SEEDED!
THE SOUL DYING, SHOWED IN YOUR PRETTY FACE. ANY SYMPTOM, HORNS GROWING, SKIN CORNING,
MUCH AS I TRY, OUT OF BOUND ARE INNARDS REAL, THE MIND FATHOM ALL, IS A TASK HERCULEAN!
SO I TRY THE HEART, AND MISERABLY DO FAIL, IT DOES KNOW ONLY A THING, MY LOVE STRONG BUT INCAPABLE!
LOVE HAS TAKEN FLIGHT, SO I DO TRY WORDS POETIC, ESSAYING SERMONS, SELF CUT ****** BARE.
BUT THOU ART A SHELL, HARD TO BREAK, SOFTNESS INSIDE, UNKNOWN TO YOU, THUS IMPOSSIBLE FOR ME!
FLOWER, IF YOU CAN, SO I CAN DRINK.ENABLE AND ENNOBLE US, COME IN TO EACH, FUSE AND BLOSSOM!
ELSE MY ANGELS, MAKE THE OUTWARD CHANGE, BASED ON THE INSIDE, A SIGN TO UNDERSTAND AND FATHOM!
OBSOLETE IS MIND, SEEMS HEART MORE SO.MAY SIGNS SPEAK AND SHOW ALL, THE IN ON THE OUT, PLAIN TRUTH!
WORSE STILL, I MAY SEEM THE SAME TO YOU, THE WORLD, THIS I AM NOT, NOR ARE YOU. LETS BREAK IN!
Sep 1, 2012
Sep 1, 2012 at 8:03 AM UTC
The rising sun crushes his soul
and the night devours his dreams
lost in his own obsessions, relief is the only thing he seeks.
misguided love pulls him further in
and each and every day will be his last struggle
that smile that comforts and eases his pains
drives him closer each and every day
alone in his world, he pities all others
secretly desires their simple and seemingly misguided lives
he sees the dark truth in others
their ignorance and happiness in the little unimportant things
surprisingly perceptive, he sees other from an untouchable and safe distance
his self-proclaimed superiority saves him the blatant wanting
his drive is for recognition
and someone to end his twisted course
that has turned his life into a undesired and unremitting ritual
endlessly searching
he finds the one
his demure and unassuming savior
he clings with all thats left
hoping with each breath
but his fate is lined with misfortune
and partnered with disillusioned sentiment
a pair not even she can render
their story ends the same
he goes on in secluded shame
a failure he has realized, destined to be his life’s legacy
a lighted piece in the unvarying end
the once hopefulness which guided him
now dissolved into a resentful dissatisfaction
but, that is life, the way it has been, a fool he was to think she would bring along its end.
Jun 20, 2010
Jun 20, 2010 at 12:18 AM UTC
Oh Mama.. Please
Just admit that you are wrong for once and i'll tell you that i'm sorry
'Cause Mama... we
are going head to head
But not heart to heart
So can I introduce you to the real me properly?..
I'm a girl whose still in love with another's daughter
She said 'Don't give up' and 'i'll stay strong' is what i told her
See you think that shes the reason why I'm so bad
But i promise theres more to it than just that
Oh life, is not exciting until you see it through the camera lens,
And heartbreak's inspiring until yours is broken by your best friend
And families aren't perfect, but we try to be again and again
Oh but am i really so bad?
Or just struggling to leave behind a legacy from dad..
Oh Mama please,
Don't be hard on me
I know i cry a lot
But you did too when you were 16
And mama please
Let me cry and scream
Cause inspiration comes
From pain,
According to me
So i'll go out tonight and
I'll take the long way home,
'give you time to stop being angry
Cause all the shouting and the doubting won't help you understand me..
Oh life, its such a mystery
When it takes love to know what really is misery
And friends, my friends all know me
Even better than i know myself
And that means something
'Cause in this life we all need help
But can i pay for happiness with just my music..
Throw all the money and the greed and self loathing pities of the world,
Into a bonfire and lose it..
Oh mama sometimes i just like to lose myself.
Jul 17, 2014
Jul 17, 2014 at 7:19 PM UTC
Not wanting to be rescued
from the twin, sin cities,
she's unwillingly led away
by a man she barely loves and pities.
Unable to follow God's direction
and her husband's leadership,
she succumbs to her heart's lust
for a final look, as the horizon dips.
Governed by Jezebel's spirit,
having forgotten that Jehovah honors His Word,
she's transformed into a pillar of salt
for a life no longer preserved.
Fighting tears from losing his wife
Lot takes careful steps backwards,
to gaze on her form one last time
before with a new life going forward.
Author Note:
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
Oct 4, 2012
Oct 4, 2012 at 8:31 AM UTC
I know someone who thinks he's enlightened,
while other people are still quite frightened.
He knows for sure that Corona is a lie,
just as much as pigs can't fly.
No point discussing things with him,
for he considers everything I say as dim.
Don't watch the news, he says, it's all fake,
the truth is, that your freedom is at stake.
Certain media channels tell you for a fact
that the richest people have formed a pact.
With subtle methods they keep you at bay,
and aim to shape you like a piece of clay.
Think about the real reason for vaccination,
it's enough to give you fear and trepidation.
Aren't you a little grim and negative, I say,
isn't it even paranoid to think that way?
He smugly looks at me 'cos he thinks he's right,
and pities me as I won't put up a fight.
I suppose belief is bliss no matter how misguided
or how badly informed one views things lopsided.
Perhaps he's survived by learning how to swim,
but where would we be, if we all thought like him.
Jul 5, 2021
Jul 5, 2021 at 3:36 AM UTC