Keegan Coutriers

How come these nights be as it is?
Who consented to loves cruel allure?
Although the ruins lay bare, a minute has been too soon,
For seconds are fixed and thoughts endless seem,
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In the days of my adolescence,
Often had I thought about the years that follow,
For those days were filled with hopes and dreams,
And as I stand here, hardly passed the bloom of youth,
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Mine eyes hath never bore such comeliness,
But thy beauty reflects loves most wicked sin,
That in thine own splendor,
A folly plagues a fickle view,
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Veracities of existence appeal not to I but to the ill,
Appeasingly they endeavor to render their will,
They choose to subsist amongst a gradual decay,
Of countenance’s despicably amid a great folly this day,
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Who shall command this aged ship?
Where wallowing and wontedness bellow remorseful tear,
That now, whence upon poignant acts being exhibited,
A quandary of mindless entreaty poised entranced he,
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O’ Fulfillment do come to be true,
For a hope that weeps expectations of sought,
Tolerances unduly testing the very nature of fateful subdue,
Where grievances of recollection stain my very thought,
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O’Dreary affliction of life, to sorrow we thus entreat
For kindness to be bestow’d upon this weaken’d vessel,
Honor, pride and contentment seeketh I of esteem’d worth,
So labors the common soul for a merit that bequeaths his value,
...