Sonnet Comprised of 14 Lines from Unrelated Poems 

For she was hostile, meaning, she’d improved;
At heart we crave illusions, like control —
It’s everywhere we’ve been, but never moved,
For profit’s so much lighter than a soul.

I know of course I could, that’s why I can’t;
Don’t point at hatred like it isn’t yours,
It’s only us that keeps our chances scant,
We miss the fish, and tear ourselves on lures.

Her mind’s a desert, and her heart’s a swamp –
He cobbles poetry, and tinkers verse –
We cover dust and ash in fame and pomp,
And practice what we know we can’t rehearse.

Oblivion, more habit, now, than quirk
Is not the only answer that will work.

Author: Beleaguered Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.

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