That such a thing could have happened,
lets me know, no other will now. We're at the end.
Child, send
for that saviour you call master.
...
I anonamoously write, because, while I'm no SERIOUS 'aspiring poet', I'd be ashamed for my earthly title to associate with it's related-mind's pitiful creations. So, poetry, I'm really sorry about this.)
How They Still Smile
That such a thing could have happened,
lets me know, no other will now. We're at the end.
Child, send
for that saviour you call master.
Ask for the guides to happiness, retrieve these for me.
Analyze your answer to find why I lay, demolished,
at such a depth!
Friend, hurry your best
to your refuge.
Find room for me: Where the others feel alright!
Show me this sacred place in the mind,
where you smile though your SOURCE has left you behind!
I beg, I plea, but still I'm unwanted, hated, as can be.
Ah, damnation, for me?
Seems I'm there already.
Yes, it does seem I've lost her love and majesty.
I wither, I shrivel, in mind, and at heart.
So it's been since for another, my very REASON, did depart.
Through a tear, a rampage, a toke, or croonin' out
'I've become, sooo blue...'
(Coping skills? Failures. Joys now so few.)
I've yet to find,
the key to moving along, and loving anew.
it is my sincere desire that you would pleasurably walk off a cliff and die tragically. or you could get hit by a Greyhound bus. thank you.