The days of life come few and fast:
we feel, we fight, we sleep, we try --
But there's no anodyne of hope
to give us strength to glimpse the sky
Behind the sludge we paste upon
our eyes, with all we read into
Our sagging minds. For what is time
that we should fill it up with
what is true?
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Tagged: Tags #Project2020 Poetry
Published by 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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this is such a pretty read omg