Pulmonary arteries proportionally prune pressure
As timid tenants search their skulls for treasure
For the weary an exercise of pleasure
For they who chose leisure, a non-recusant torture measure
Blots of ink purposefully splatter
The exhausted minds anxiety barely does batter
The gleaming pulp of papyrus seeks refuge
As an enthusiastic tube unleashes the brain’s residue
The bright becomes bleak
The bleak becomes bright
To surrender, or to fight?
To accept a dammed plight?
Or upon your being failure indict?
Don’t deprive your valiant sight
Look up, victory is so much in sight
Clasp your hands and request insight
Don’t cave in just yet, stay on and fight.
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Comments about this poem (ATEMUDA by delalorm fiaka )
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