Winner of The Writer's Cramp round 82 |
An unfamiliar sorrow found, At slightest penumbra, I cry, One hides them like a lover's sound, Like a foolish child, prone to spy. At slightest penumbra, I cry, Though difficult my description, Like a foolish child, prone to spy, There's little time for decryption. Though difficult my description, Prescription after prescription, There's little time for decryption, As life approaches rejection. Prescription after prescription, One hides them like a lover's sound, As life approaches rejection, An unfamiliar sorrow found. Note: Sorrows come when it's realized everything is gone and nothing can be done.
|